


The Prodigal Son Hath Returned

by TheProfoundBlade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Anal, Angst, Blood, Bloodplay, Comfort, Contract, Demon Dean, Dom!Alastair, Emotional Abuse, Emotions, Fear, Fluff, Gore, Hell, Hurt, Infidelity, Jealousy, Knifeplay, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Masturbation, Multiple Endings, Multiple OC's, OC!Demon, Physical Abuse, S/M, S9 onwards, Somewhat domestic, Sub!Dean, Suggestive Themes, Violence, Weaponry, apocalypse 2.0, blowjob, striptease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:39:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 48,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1890531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProfoundBlade/pseuds/TheProfoundBlade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean becomes a demon, he returns to Hell to find an old friend waiting to take him under his wings again.<br/><i>Long fic, lots of angst/feelings/abuse/smut.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Contract

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The character of Alastair should be envisioned as his last meat-suit before his passing, Christopher Heyerdahl.

The hallways of Hell were always changing. Sometimes you would come across the endless waiting line, or the primitive prison cells. Other times you would see endless streets with what seems like stores and bars, filled to the brim with demons. Tonight, Dean would walk a street like this and he would walk unharmed. Walking with a steady pace, he would catch a glimpse of other demons’ gazes, wondering why he was here and why he was so.. much alike them.   
Dean still wore his meatsuit from upstairs - all things considered, it was the only body he had known for his whole human life. He was simply not ready to let go of it yet. Besides, he knew his charming freckles and broad stature could be helpful to coax some innocent souls in the crossroads deals eventually. 

The rugged street was coming to an end, ironically splitting up into a crossroad with visibly different streets. One very barren, another leading downwards towards catacombs where endless screams and pleadings could be heard. The final road, the one to the right, would be short and lead to a giant skyscraper which stood in stark contrast to the rugged street right next to it. Dean wandered in, being approached by cool, white walls and bright lights. A secretary asked if she could help, but Dean shrugged her question off easily and walked over to an elevator, pushing the button firmly to call it down. He looked behind him, seeing out the windows from where he just came and the outside looked nothing like it did just a minute ago - it now reminded him of Manhattan, busy and crowded with people in the streets - no red skies or rugged, bloody roads. It was clear to him how manipulative Hell truly was. It was fascinating. 

The elevator rang with a familiar bell and the doors opened. Within stood a well dressed female Demon, stylish and with long, curled blonde hair. She walked past, and only then did Dean notice the heavy chain leash she held so graciously in her left hand - a giant, blood red Hell Hound was on the other end, snarling up at Dean is they passed him. He turned his focus to the Elevator and went in, knowing exactly to what floor he was going - 33. It was kind of ironic to Dean, but he paid it no further thought. After the elevator reached its destination, Dean turned left and with the same pace as earlier passed businessmen laughing at each others’ lame ass jokes and overly green plastic plants standing next to every other door. At the end of the corridor was a big, mahogany door with the name “Crowley” on it. Without knocking, Dean opened the door and was met with a familiar face.

“Dean, Squirrel, welcome. So glad to see you here,” Crowley croaked, getting up from his overly large leather chair. He held a hand out towards Dean, inviting to a shake, but Dean put his hands in his pockets and simply pouted back.   
“Alright, I can understand we’re not on… complete buddy-buddy terms yet. Please, have a seat.” As he sat down again, Crowley gestured towards one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Dean closed to door behind him and sat down, silent as ever. His green eyes never left Crowley, even with the moving paintings behind him making interesting scenes of Demons and Angels fighting and making love in beautiful chaos. 

“So, Winchester.. Welcome to Hell! Hope you didn’t have trouble finding the place,” Crowley beamed, sitting back very relaxed and with a large smile on his face. Dean finally broke the silence,

“Was no trouble at all,” he said with a crooked smile, eyes turning black as soon as he finished his sentence.

“Good, good. Now, how are you feeling? Are you getting used to the new state of yourself? Hopefully you are not experiencing too much.. trauma.”

“To be quite honest with you Crowley, I’m feeling pretty great. All those.. hindering emotions, the guilt, the responsibility.. All gone,” he sat forwards in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees, “so I can’t complain”. 

Crowley simply shook his head in acceptance, tapping his fingertips against each other and looking down towards the desk. He sat forward as well, feeling almost out of place faced with the Winchester both Heaven and Hell had craved so bad.   
“You know, I’m almost kind of sorry for having you go through the whole,” he started swinging his arms around in circular motions, “Mark of Cain deal. But you seem to be handling it quite well. I’m pleased.”

Dean nodded and finally looked around a bit, noticing how ordinary Crowley’s little office looked. Simple filing cabinets and standard furniture - hell, no windows even. It almost seemed too standard a deal for the King of Hell. 

“Since you’re King and all, how come your office is so dull? Figured you would go all out in the place where you had no limits,” Dean turned his gaze back to Crowley and further down to the folders on the desk. He noticed his name on the topmost of them, crooking his head a bit in wonder. 

“Yeah well, you know.. I prefer to seem modest among my underlings. Wouldn't want them to get all.. Jealous of me, you see. It’s a sin, after all!” Crowley chuckled. 

“Aha.”

“Now, on to business. Every demon serves a purpose. You know a few, of course - crossroads demons, the typical goon demons et cetera, bla bla bla. Now, your past experiences here in Hell considered, I would like to see you back at the pit carving a few souls here and there.” Crowley scrambled with the folders and opened up the one with Dean’s name on it, flipping through a few pages before stopping on one that looked much like a contract.   
“Of course, since it has been quite a while since your last carvings, you would have to work under our prime torturer, but I am sure it’s no fuss. Eventually, who knows, the student may surpass the teacher!” 

Enthusiastically he smiled at Dean, finding a pen nearby and signing a few things here and there. Dean could not tell exactly what was being scribbled down, but he did not question it. He wondered who was the Prime now, seeing as Alastair had been fried by Sam years ago. It was with some sorrow that Dean came across that memory, and he was glad he did not witness it himself. For even though he was terrified of Alastair then, he also remembered the sick sense of acceptance and.. possibly love, he felt when being under his master. After all, he had always wanted to impress and do good, be a “good boy” as Alastair would have put it, even from when he was young with his father. Memories of always sacrificing his own well-being to do what John told him, starving to make sure that Sammy had food, not sleeping because he knew how serious the hunt was, worried to death over failing his father’s orders in keeping Sam safe. Meanwhile Crowley was still blabbering on, making sure to mention every item on the list of what it takes to be a torturer. Dean knew already, however, what it took. It felt like it was ingrained on his spine, the rules and requirements. Alastair taught him well, he thought. 

“..So,” Crowley halted himself after a long, winded speech, “we have to introduce you to the Prime of course - I wouldn’t want to send you off on your first day without meeting the boss of your department”. A smirk landed on his face and he sat back in his chair, folding his arms over gently and observing Dean who was still far away in deep thought.   
“Dean?”   
“Hrm, yes” he responded, eyes focused on Crowley again.

“Ah, here he comes”, Crowley spurted, sitting up in the chair again looking towards the door and standing up as it opened. A cold chill entered the room and it seemed like the lights dimmed a bit. Assertive, calm steps were to be heard and Dean turned slowly to see who his superior was going to be for the next millennia or two.

“Hello, Crowley. _Dean_.” 

A voice filled with authority and strength boomed through Deans’ ears, instantly causing his back muscles to tense and his hands to clench. His eyes watered slightly and the hairs on his arm stood - could it really be?

He muttered a name under his breath, slowly turning his face up to see the tall man standing right next to him. The man did not face him back, only smiled crookedly at Crowley.

“Good to see you again, Crowley. It has been a while since you sat behind your desk, hmn?” 

“Truly. Let’s hope it doesn’t happen again anytime soon! Sit, please, sit.” Crowley gestured at the tall man whom nodded back with the same smile as previously, sitting calmly down in the chair next to Dean. Dean was completely mesmerized by the man, jaw dropping slightly and eyes locked on that familiar face. The man did still not acknowledge him the slightest, keeping a calm expression locked on Crowley as they chit-chatted about the years that had seemed to pass and the whole “Abbadon” controversy. None of the conversation actually slipped through to Dean; all that filled his head was distant memories of the time under Alastair's service, both on the rack and off of it. 

A hand guiding his own with grace and care whilst carving out an eye of a poor teenage boy, slowly snapping every tendon. A chilling breath behind his ear, whispering sweet confirmation when he made the souls scream just right. A feeling of ecstasy when the blood trickled from a freshly carved wound, caressed carefully by a cold finger to follow along the stream. Being blind but sensing movement all over, feeling fingertips and knife-ends prod between the connections of his bare muscles, free from skin. A smile. Laughter. Scoldings. Praises. Everything came flowing back as he sat there and stared, endlessly, at the tall man. 

Not once did the man acknowledge Dean, not once did he gesture towards him or even move his eyes near him. Dean felt conflicted, did he not want to have him back? Was it to just prove to Dean that he was above him? Didn’t he care for him anymore, seeing as Dean had been away for so long? 

“Well, Dean, let’s get this signed and get you going, yes?” Crowley said with a smile, turning his attention to Dean’s distraught face. Dean reacted, muscles relaxing and gaze turned from the man to the paper in front of him on the table. He nodded slightly, scooting forward in his seat to grab the pen Crowley now was holding out to him. Deans eyes had returned to the sparkly green state, still tearing up a bit and of course Crowley noticed. He did not say anything however, simply handed over the pen and pointed with a single digit to where Dean had to sign. The rest of the scribbles on his contract were in an ancient scripture that Dean could not understand, the name next to his also being unreadable to him. He didn’t dare to think it was true.

The two demons nodded to each other and both rose from their seats, leaning over the table and shaking hands. The lights in the room flickered slightly as the shake took place, Dean looking around to observe what was happening. He lifted his head towards the handshake and followed the tall mans hand up to his face again, feeling ever more confused and distraught. He shouldn’t feel like this being a demon, especially one with connection to the almighty Cain, but he quivered still from being near this tall man. 

Crowley sat down again and the tall man turned from his chair to the door, opening it slightly but stopping in his tracks as he did so. 

“Come.” He ordered, and in an instant Dean rose from his chair and stood right behind the tall man, head faced down towards the floor and hands clenched near his sides. 

“Take good care of him Alastair!” Crowley yelled as they trotted out the door. 

“Don’t worry. _I will_.”


	2. Let's Get Comfortable.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy reunion in an all too familiar setting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of this story. A quick note, this is my first SPN fanfiction and the first fic I've written in about 10 years. I'm glad to hear any responses on it so far.  
> Enjoy the next part!
> 
>  
> 
> _I intend to release the next 2 chapters within 2-3 days. I have a few ready to go already but want to make sure everything is just in place. Stay tuned!_

The smell of the room was too familiar. The mix of sulfur, dust and blood was heavy and gritty in Dean’s throat, so much so that he had to clear it. Alastair noticed this, of course, and retorted with a low chuckle. The room was surrounded by darkness, the only things visible being in a large cone of light in the middle of the room. As they moved closer to the center, the walls seemed to vanish and the familiar feeling of being lost crept over Dean. In the middle, bathed in the bright white light, was the rack Dean was all too familiar with - it was the one he had been strung up on in his time in Hell, the one where he spent hours upon hours bleeding to death or seeing himself carved away piece by piece. 

He walked up to it, slowly, and lightly put a hand on the middle of it, feeling the coarse wood under his fingertips. Nothing here was smooth or for pleasure - nothing felt nice or gentle. It was clean, however, no blood or other.. bodily fluids to be found anywhere. 

“I prepared it all for you, you know” a voice hummed. Dean looked around slowly, not being able to see Alastair anywhere.  
“Everything is in tip.. top.. condition.” 

Dean didn’t reply. He lowered his head again, feeling almost pressured to be quiet and let Alastair have the floor to himself. He glanced towards the table filled with “toys”, including the infamous razor Dean had carved with for the first time. Everything was clean and ready and it felt both scary and exciting.

“You didn’t actually think that I would have let you come back to a dirty, dirty room, now would you son?” Dean shivered. Still unable to see Alastair anywhere, he felt vulnerable and weak.. but he liked it. The old dynamic between the master and the apprentice was slowly appearing again. 

“Did you miss me, _Dean_?” Alastair made sure to drag out the name, consciously making Dean more and more tense about the situation.

Again, Dean didn’t reply and started moving a bit closer to the rack, both hands on it now. He still kept his eyes on the ground, nervous. Without a sound, Alastair crept from the darkness right behind Dean, mouth so close to his ear any motion would send a shock through him.  
“Answer me!”, Alastair growled, and as predicted Dean jumped in his place, starting to shake as he felt the cold presence behind him.  
“Y-yes!” he stuttered, voice trembling. 

“Good, my boy..” Alastair crept in completely now, embracing Dean’s shoulders like a reassuring father would a son. Dean trembled under the touch, feeling a chill under the palms of Alastair’s hands. “At least you are home, safe and sound. So many years have passed, Grasshopper. I wasn’t sure I would ever see your pretty green eyes again”, Alastair hummed. His embrace turned to tender brushes, caressing Dean’s arms gently and calmly. Dean closed his eyes, feeling content and calm after being fully assured that this.. this was -his- Alastair. 

“I.. I thought you w-were gone”, Dean stuttered again, slightly turning his head sideways to catch a glimpse of Alastair's chin so close to his own.  
“ _Mhnm_ , well, you see,” Alastair said, moving his hands from Dean and walking a bit backwards, “your measly little brother did manage to send me off to.. Lucifer knows where. But, you know good old Crowley”, he paused, “he somehow always knows how to strike a good deal with anyone.” 

Dean turned around to see Alastair in his full glory, arms spread from his body as to say “Here I am”. Dean felt a slight smile creep onto his lips, turning completely and nodding in appreciation at the sight. This meat-suit was Deans favorite, and Alastair knew this. Whenever they had their private sessions, Alastair would use this one. It was something about an older authority that made Deans knees turn to jello, a certain respect for older fatherly figures. The fact that the meat-suit also carried gorgeous blue eyes only made Dean more happy, even if it did remind him of his other soul mate, Castiel. He still had not told Cas about his new life as a demon, but he was sure the news would come to him eventually. 

But now, all that mattered was Alastair. Appeasing him, bringing him joy and pride. Dean would prove to him that he truly was the best apprentice, that he was worth all the fighting and torment. He felt sorry for his master, having to actually die and vanish - all because of Dean. He felt the urge to get on his knees and kiss the ground Alastair walked upon, making sure he knew exactly how treasured he was to Dean. 

“Now, son,” Alastair started, moving towards Dean again with slow steps, “let’s get comfortable, shall we?”  
With a snap of his fingers, Dean was on the rack again, locked so tight he could barely move an inch. The familiar feeling of the straps around his wrists and ankles made him smile a little, and it even excited him to feel a new constraint on his forehead.  
“I, _hmn_ , upgraded it a little as you can tell. I’m sure we will learn to enjoy these changes, _hm_?” 

Alastair's voice filled the room entirely, making Dean's muscles quiver in anticipation of what would come. Alastair reacted to the quivers by running his hand down the buttons of Dean's shirt, flicking the buttons open one by one, eventually exposing a bare chest.  
“Impractical” Alastair stated, and with another snap all of Dean’s clothes vanished.  
“Better.” 

Alastair turned to the table next to him, picking up the famous razor once more. He looked at it with glee and pride, and with a smile on his face turned to Dean again, holding the razor near Deans nose, waving it slowly from side to side. Deans eyes turned black in anticipation and eagerly tried to follow the movement of the blade with his head, albeit impossible.  
“Now my pet.. Let’s get started, shall we?” 

Hours passed and Dean came to after his body got restored. Apparently Alastair had been hastily, since usually it could take him days to carve him down to nothing and restore him. Dean thought Alastair must have been just as excited as he was, moving his blades so quickly. The room was silent and empty, the tools gone and the light dimmed. 

“Alastair?” Dean called out, raspy voice as if he had just awakened from a long slumber.  
“Alastair, please.” 

No.. No. This was not what he wanted. This was not what he signed up for - being left in solitude, left with himself. Even if his human side had passed, he apparently still held some of his key traits - one of them being terrified of being alone. His eyes frantically searched the room, trying to sense anything in the shadows. Still fully restrained, he felt a sense of panic, wishing desperately for Alastair to step out of the shadows and calm him. 

He never came. For years.

“Wakey wakey, Dean..”

 _No.. This isn’t real_ , Dean thought, _just another one of my desperate prayers for his return playing around in my head. He doesn’t love me, he thinks I am the worst apprentice ever, why did he even accept me as his student anyway? I am weak and soft, too human, too.._

“Come on now Dean, don’t keep me waiting..” 

The voice hummed with anticipation. Dean opened his eyes to see the lights were on at full capacity again, engulfing himself and a figure in front of him. The silhouette became clearer and clearer, until eventually Dean could see completely clear; Alastair had returned.  
Overfilled with joy - but also sorrow - Dean's chest started to pound vigorously. In theory something it shouldn’t be able to, but imagination runs wild in Hell and certain situations made even the most cold-blooded demons feel emotions physically. The closer Alastair came, the harder Dean’s heart pounded - he felt like he was choking, and was sure his heart would burst out of his chest.

“Why’d you leave me here?! Why?! What did I do wrong?! Tell me!” Dean writhed in anger, screaming loudly towards Alastair. Deep inside he knew it was the absolute worst thing to do, but he could not contain his sorrow much longer. All he had longed for was the touch of Alastair's blade, the comforting sounds of laughter and demon speak in his ear. 

“You watch your tone with me, boy!” Alastair growled back, ferociously taking a few steps forward as if to threaten Dean. Instinctively Dean wanted to flinch his head, but still couldn’t because of the head constraints. Tears started to fill in his eyes, heart still pounding so hard against his chest.  
“Just tell me why! Please, Alastair, please! Don’t leave me like this again!” Dean pleaded, the tears now overflowing and running in a steady stream down his dry cheeks. 

Alastair raised his hand and with a rapid move he clenched Deans throat tight, blocking any words from further splurging out. In that instant, Dean’s heart stopped pounding and went silent, all muscles tensing up in his body, instinctively preparing for a beating.

“Since when, my boy, did you become the _**weeping**_ bitch? Are you really that dependent of me?”. The clench became tighter and tighter, and if Dean was still breathing he would have passed out easily. Instead the pressure made him close his eyes, partially he wished to react and hate Alastair for it but mostly he was happy; happy that finally Alastair had returned to him. Wrathful or not. 

“If you really want to know, you might have noticed that the Demon camps were a bit, _hmn_ , all over the place after Abaddon and Crowley decided to fight it out as to who should rule Hell..” Alastair didn’t loosen his grip, but his expression turned a bit softer, moving his eyes from Deans face to his body.  
“And someone has to make some of them come back to their senses, don’t you see?” 

Alastair let go of Dean completely, turning his back to him and walked towards the darkness again.

“No, please Alastair, please!”, sobbed Dean, tears still flowing and desperation growing throughout his body.

“Obviously you are not ready my boy.. I will see you soon. I expect you to be more well mannered next time.”

And so, Alastair vanished. Dean whimpered, clenched his hands and dug his nails into his palms. All he wanted was Alastair, all he wanted was to do well and impress him. Instead he pushed him away.

Dean screamed for hours on end, so loud that the other rooms nearby quivered from his rage and sadness.


	3. Overflow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some alone time - demon to demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I couldn't resist putting out another chapter since, well, it's motivating me to write! Enjoy!_

Another year passed and Dean felt like he had drained every possible drop of tears from his body for the rest of his immortal life. So many curse words and profanities had left his mouth he lost count, hell, he probably even invented some in his rage. But he took Alastair’s words to heart and actually thought about why he reacted so explosively in being left like that. It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before, back when he was off the rack - years would pass between them meeting once Alastair felt confident in his apprentice. But Dean had felt impatient since his return to Hell and under his master’s service - he felt like he had something to prove, and he felt eager to prove it. He didn’t consider the whole fight for the kingdom in his equation - he simply wanted Alastair. The joy of seeing him alive once more had overflown him and all he had learned so quickly. But he wanted to improve.. He wanted to be the apprentice Alastair expected him to be. So he waited, patiently. 

At the end of two years Alastair finally made an appearance, driving in the table as he had so many times before, humming to himself. Dean kept his mouth shut, even when he wanted to scream again. He did his absolute best to keep his emotions bottled up, knowing that - just as his last trip to Hell - his frustrations would be taken out on other souls eventually. For now, Dean was Alastair’s playground and he could do with Dean’s body as he pleased. He didn’t need to break again since he had no shred of humanity left, but he needed to prove his worth to Alastair in order to regain his rank. 

“Now now Dean, don’t throw all those mean, cruel words at me”, Alastair chuckled to himself, clearly knowing how much Dean had thought about his reaction earlier and had been listening in to the endless amounts of rage that had been streaming from the room.  
“Everyone around you have been complaining about the noise you’re making.. Can’t have that, now, can we?”

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, even though it was pointless here. He tried his best to contain himself, simply letting Alastair do whatever he pleased.

“Oh, my dear, dear Dean..”   
Alastair ran his fingers across the tools on the table, ending on a large, needle-shaped blade. Almost a thinner Angel Blade, one would have thought. He ran the length of the blade through the palm of his hand, and eventually moved the blade to the crease of Dean’s belly button. Carefully prodding the tip of the blade a bit in, all muscles in Dean’s abdomen flexed tight and Alastair reacted by pulling the blade away again.

“Ah, ah, ah!” He said playfully, swaying the blade in motion in front of his pet’s face, “I control this game, my dear. You know that.” Dean reacted by biting his lips, eyes instantly breaking from bright green to black in frustration. He wanted the pain again so bad, craved it. He wanted it because he knew how absolutely crucial it was for Alastair’s approval. He had some masochistic tendencies on his own in his life, sure, but nothing like this. But for as long as he lived, his needs always bended towards what his partners wanted - and this was the ultimate partner. 

Castiel never came that close to Dean, but even if he had, Dean would have bent any way that Cas would have wanted. There were lust between them especially towards the end, the further away Dean came from humanity the closer Casl wanted to be. The relationship between Cas and Dean was so far from what it was with Alastair - everything between them was distant yet crystal clear for them, limited by their fears and expectations towards each other and everyone else around them. No words, no embraces, only feelings. With Alastair, everything was raw, primordial, brutal, physical and accepted. No-one questioned the clear affection the master torturer held towards Dean, and no-one had questioned it when he buckled under and embraced Alastair’s thigh so tightly whenever he had asked it of him. Here, Dean was Alastair’s pet. And that of itself was a title no-one else had claimed before. 

Suddenly the blade got forced into Dean’s right side, piercing his skin and muscle easily. Dean gritted his teeth and muffled a scream, trying his best not to move. Alastair smiled in approval, and slowly slid out the blood covered blade again. He moved around a bit and drew a line from the wound across Dean’s belly towards the left side. Moving close to his pet’s face, Alastair bit his own lips whilst forcing the blade inside the soft flesh again, this time causing a more vocal reaction. Dean tried his best to keep his eyes open, knowing how much his master wanted this special connection between them. 

“Good boy, Dean..” Alastair hummed as he slid out the blade again, and leaned further into Dean’s face to softly plant a kiss on his cheek.   
Slowly Alastair would puncture every part of Dean’s torso, leaving nothing untouched. Gaping, bleeding holes were overflowing with blood, endless streams like rivers. At this point, Alastair released Dean’s head constraint and let the new demons’ head fall to his chest. Tired and feeling void of anything at this point, Dean opened his eyes slightly to see the steady blood stream forming a decent sized pool underneath him. Alastair stood in the pool with bare feet - something Dean didn’t recall happening before - but he noticed how Alastair’s toes would curl every time he sliced a new spot. 

“I am yours”, Dean muffled under his breath, leaving Alastair wondering. 

“What, my boy?” 

Dean lifted his head slowly, chin now smothered in his own warm, sticky blood. He searched for Alastair’s eyes in his red and blurry vision, and when he finally found them, Dean smiled warmly.

“I am yours. Completely.” 

Alastair smirked in that familiar way, blue eyes beaming of power and lust. He lifted up Dean’s head to support against the board with his free hand, smothered in blood, and with the other he pierced Dean’s chin from underneath. Excruciating pain surged through him as the blade reached his brain, blacking out instantly. He woke up again, restored, most likely a day or so later. 

When he came to, Alastair had taken Dean down from the rack and placed him on the floor, fully clothed. Alastair sat next to him on a chair, legs spread apart and arms resting on them. Dean blinked a few times before trying to sit up, seeing the master’s shoes as the first thing once his vision returned fully. 

Once sitting up, Dean let his gaze wander to Alastair’s face. It was blank, cold, almost scolding him. Dean reacted instantly by looking down again, moving onto his knees in front of Alastair. The room felt smaller, and felt like there was a thousand gazes on him. Alastair motioned Dean to come closer with a small movement of his hand, still emotionless. Dean scooted slowly closer, moving in between his knees. The range of the light grew smaller - so did the room - and the gazes felt like they were burning in Deans neck.   
With a few more movements Dean was as close as he could get without laying in over Alastair’s chest. The master moved his hands to Dean’s head and gently brushed the brown, soft hair. A smile grew on his face as he pulled Dean’s face down to his groin, and his pet obeyed without question, planting the side of his face on his master. Dean closed his eyes as Alastair moved one hand from his head onto his own leg again, understanding what his master was saying with this little.. seance. 

He was truly, completely - Alastair’s. For all of Hell to see.


	4. A Slice of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is finally back off the rack, trying to impress his tutor.

A muffled scream could be heard throughout the catacombs, rattling the bars and pieces of glass randomly scattered on the ground. The scream was so guttural and deep it was obvious someone had hit just the right spot - according to Alastair, at least.   
Blood was pumping in a steady fashion out of a gash in the man's stomach. The abdominal aorta had been cut with precision, small and deep but impactful. Dean circled the rack with a cool air to him, gently grazing his own hand with a razor. In front of the man on the rack laid his tongue, displayed on the table as some sort of relic, bathed in light and blood. 

“I didn’t feel like listening to your.. profanities today, Rhett. I’ve heard you before, through the hallways, swearing up a storm, being blasphemous towards our Father.. Can’t have that.”

Dean approached the rack from behind, slowly slithering his arms in over Rhett’s stomach, razor in one hand, carefully slicing the skin as he moved it towards the center. Rhett muffled out a scream again, sounding like he was choking from litres of fluid - blood, in this case - and it made Dean smile with glee. He leaned in and practically hugged Rhett and the rack, letting the razor twirl between his fingers, cutting himself slightly. With every tiny gash he made on himself he twitched in excitement.   
Rhett was shaking vigorously, fighting the pain as much as he could.

“Shhh, my dear. The more you move the quicker you’ll bleed out,” Dean hushed, “wouldn’t want that on our first date.”

Dean covered the gash with the flats of his hand, razor against the skin. He gently brushed his hands up and down the bloody stomach, creating new superficial gashes as he went. Rhett had silenced but was still quivering with fear. He must have wondered why Dean was acting so affectionate, when all the other torturers had been so vicious and angry. But Dean was different. He had learned from Alastair to mix business with pleasure for his own benefit, dragging out the process so long that it almost seemed like neverending foreplay - because that is what it was to Alastair. Observing from the side, the master circled the room tirelessly, not noticing the victim on the rack, only his boy. Hands folded across his stomach, his mind wandered to fields of primal sounds, blood and never-ending movement. 

Dean let go of his grasp and moved with haste to the table, putting the razor down and grabbing a long knife with serrated edges. He observed the blade for a moment, letting his own blood flow onto the tip from the gashes from earlier, licking his lips in excitement.   
Rhett was observing his torturers moves, trying to drain his throat a little by leaning as far as he could forward. Thick streams of dark blood fell from his mouth, mixing with the fresh red on his stomach. Dean lifted his head to see the flows mix, sighing and shaking his head a little. In an instant, his free hand was on Rhett’s throat, forcing his head upwards to stop the blood from further spilling down.   
“You know, you’re my piece of art, Rhett,” Dean gritted through his teeth, eyes almost glowing with anger now. “I don’t want you to interfere with what I’m doing.. Keep your filthy mouth-blood to yourself.”   
He slammed the blade through Rhett’s throat, letting go of his grasp in the same instant, letting the weight of the head fall and rest on the handle of the long blade. In the instant the blade slammed through, the vocal cords were snapped and now Dean’s victim could be kept completely silent. He realized that Alastair thrived on the screams, the pleadings and the angst, but this was Dean’s first victim since his return and he wanted to cherish it and practice as much as he could.

He picked up another blade, smaller and sharper, and started to carve into Rhett’s arms. Slice by slice he dug deeper and deeper into his victim, spending time carefully scooping from the tip of his fingers to the start of his shoulders. After he had flayed the arms he moved to the legs, continuing the technique. Rhett passed out after the second arm got flayed, and after a while Alastair moved from his place in the darkness up next to Dean by the victim, laying a hand on Dean’s waist. 

“Beautiful, my boy.” he hummed, gently running a finger through the victims right arm. It felt like little valleys of warm, wet flesh and the sight was spectacular in the eyes of Alastair.   
“Thank you,” Dean replied under his breath, moving down a little on the legs as he still was carving. Alastair’s hand fell back to his side, and he turned to the table, picking up the tongue and lifting it up. 

“I’m wondering why you didn’t let him keep this, m’dear” Alistair growled with curiosity in his voice. He flapped the tongue a bit before letting it fall with a gross slap on the table. Alastair turned towards Dean again, resting his hands on his hips.   
Dean continued to carve, almost sitting down now, humming a bit to himself. He let his free hand find Alastair’s leg, gently caressing it.   
“I just wanted a quiet, simple session today.” 

Alastair nodded, stepping in towards Rhett’s body and looking at the knife slammed into his throat. With a hand he circled the entrance smearing some of the fresh blood on the tips of his fingers. Dean meanwhile had moved his hand and sat down on his knees, still slowly working his way down to make deep, skinless valleys. Small mountains of flesh was forming around him, looking like scoops of ice cream of skin and flesh.   
Alastair started to circle the rack, still observing his student with care. 

“You know,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest, “if you’re trying to impress me you’re not doing a very good job, Grasshopper.” 

Dean stopped for a moment with his carving, heart dropping a bit. He thought he had done well, he knew the voiceless torture would be a risk but the rest was carefully thought out. Alastair had even said it was beautiful - why was it not impressive? He hadn’t seen or felt any sort of carving like this before himself, what was wrong?   
In desperation he dropped his blade, looking around the room but avoiding Alastair. He huffed to himself, staring at the bloody mountain next to him. He closed his eyes, waiting for another hurtful sentance, readying himself almost as he would ready for a punch to the gut. 

“I mean it’s glorious and all, don’t get me wrong..”  
Dean’s heart dropped even more.  
“.. but it’s simply just too.. Simple. Where’s the rage, boy?”

Alastair's voice started to raise, sounding more and more disappointed by each word. Instinctively Dean curled up within himself, clutching his hands together and holding his non-existant breath.   
“I thought you wanted to act out in anger, boy! I thought you harboured so much frustration, especially from me leaving you for so long! Where is the passion, Dean, where is the lust - have I taught you nothing?!”   
Alastair had moved completely over Dean now, fists clenched and his face filled with anger. 

Dean opened his eyes, black as the pit itself and grinding his teeth. “Oh I’ll show you anger,” he said under his breath, so low that Alastair hardly could hear it. This infuriated Alastair even more, who raised his fist as to hit his pupil. As the hand fell, Dean jumped quickly away, getting up on his feet with eyes beaming at his master.   
“Don’t you defy me, boy”, the master raged, bulking up more so than Dean had seen in a long time.  
For once, instead of covering, Dean stood tall against his master. He wasn’t the broken human Alastair had toyed with before - this was Demon Dean. A strong entity on his own, still so bonded to Alastair but tired of taking every hit as he did when he was a human.   
“Don’t come near me, Alastair” Dean yelled back, clenching his fists tight. To some extent Alastair hated the defiance but he got what he wanted out of Dean - passion, anger, frustration. With assertive steps he marched towards Dean, grabbing a meathook from the table as he passed quickly. Dean didn’t flinch, only sturdied himself more in preparation for a fight. In a flinch, Alastair swung the hook from below and sliced into Dean’s abdomen. The rage on his face switched instantly to joy, moving even closer to Dean, nose to nose. Dean spurted a bit of blood and as a reaction to the hook he released his clenched fists, falling forward into Alastair’s face. 

“I said,” Alastair whispered, “Don’t.. defy me.”   
Dean’s eyes closed and he kept coughing up a few splatters of blood, arms now trying to grab a hold of Alastair who swatted every attempt away like it was nothing. Desperation and more frustration built up inside of Dean, wanting so bad to fight back but at the same time he knew he couldn’t do anything. He had just gotten off the rack, he had no desire to get back there again. He was still ever so angry though. 

Alastair twisted the hook in Dean’s soft flesh, moving organs around ruthlessly and painfully. Dean whimpered and kept leaning more against Alastair, arms stopping to fight him and instead trying to find rest somewhere on his master’s body. Alastair retorted by moving closer, other arm embracing Dean around the waist. He let Deans arms rest upon him, licking at the bloody lips before him. 

“I-I just wan.. ted”, Dean muttered, blood dripping from his barely open mouth.  
Alastair leaned in for a kiss, smearing the blood on both their lips. Dean flinched but accepted, following Alastair’s lead. For a moment he almost forgot the hook inside of him, but before he knew it Alastair twisted it again, pushing his face harder against Dean’s. 

“Come, pet” Alastair growled, “let’s finish this wasteful piece of crap on the rack together.”   
Dean simply nodded back, eyes closed and blood starting to drip out of his nose. Quickly Alastair removed the hook, dropping it to the floor and moving his hand up grab Dean by his throat. Dean trembled as the hook went out and almost fell, feeling somewhat thankful for his masters quick reactions. Alastair smiled and let go of Dean after a little while, straightening his pose and turning to walk back to the table. Rhett had started to wake up again, moving slightly causing the blade in his throat to cut him from the inside. Dean shook off the pain, touching his stomach and holding in the steady flow of blood at least for a moment. He looked up at his master, filled with so much anger and frustration, but decided against attacking back. Alastair had offered a special gift by asking him to carve together with him, usually it was either or. 

Alastair found a large butchers blade and observed the shine coming from above. He rested his back and turned his head to the side, eyes trying to find Dean behind him.   
“Come on Dean. Don’t keep me waiting again.”

Dean reacted instantly, shuffling towards his master, feeling pain with every step. He moved behind Alastair, chest almost touching his masters back, reaching up towards the blade he was holding with his other hand still on his open wound. The master tightened his grip, blade in hand, not letting Dean take grasp of it. He walked to the left side of Rhett on the rack in a quick movement, motioning Dean to pick up his own weapon of choice. Deans eyes dropped, disappointed almost, but stepped in towards the table to pick up a very rusty cleaver. He moved to stand across of Alastair, to the right of Rhett, lifting his eyes again to look at the joyous face of his master. Dean’s eyes remained black however, as though he still motioned to Alastair that he was furious.

“Come on now, boy, show me those beautiful green eyes.” Alastair pleaded almost with a sinister tone, crooking his head slightly. Dean simply shook his head slowly, not answering, and Alastair lifted his eyebrow with a smile. “Alright then.. Promise me I will see them later, though.” 

Loud sounds of metal smashing in to wood would be heard the rest of the day, as the men took turns in chopping into Rhett, chopping him apart piece from piece. In between the sounds, roars would be heard from Dean, and Alastair's maniacal laughter to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone who's been reading and popping kudos' at me so far! I love it all. Still got alot of chapters ready and pretty much the full storyline thought out, so, yeah! I hope you enjoyed this next chapter~


	5. Do As Ordered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some.. personal fun time.

Alastair pushed Dean into a room he hadn’t seen before. It was out of place in terms of where he usually stayed in Hell, and it reminded him mostly of one of the ragged motel rooms he had spent so much time in when he was alive. 

“What’s this,” he chortled, almost stumbling from Alastair’s push, “since when did we get so formal?”. He heard the door slam behind him, slowly walking towards one of the single beds in the middle of the room. The walls were drenched in nicotine, a familiar foul stench of alcohol and sex also managed to find its way into Deans sensory center, sending distant memories through him. He kept trotting around the room, sensing Alastair close by, almost feeling a cold breath on his neck. 

Soft hands embraced Dean’s shoulders, much like the first day he had returned under Alastair’s charge. He felt relaxed and at ease, all that frustration from earlier had rushed out through the relentless hacking and screaming.   
“You did well my boy.. Just as I wanted.”   
Dean nodded to Alastair’s words, feeling comfortable knowing he appeased his master at least a little. He felt Alastair’s hands clenching tighter in his grip, nails almost digging through the leather jacket. A breath moved closer to his left ear, tensing Dean up again. He knew what was going to happen now. For some reason, the memories of this had been dragged out from him but as he was standing in the situation again he remembered clearly. 

A snake-like tongue caressed his ear, flicking ever so slightly at his earlobe. Dean closed his eyes and felt himself melt a little, falling a bit back into Alastair’s grasp. The hands would let go of his arms and move down his torso, gently crawling in under his jacket and shirts. Cold fingertips hit his sides, causing him to flinch slightly before falling back into the melting sensation. The hands travelled from his sides to his stomach and chest, gently brushing the newly healed skin. The tongue had moved from Dean’s ear to the back of his neck, followed by gentle suckles and biting. Dean’s eyes flickered for a bit, the blackness vanishing into his pupils and revealing glinting green eyes. Alastair sensed this, and with a swift move flipped Dean around to look him deep into his eyes.

“There you are, my pet..”   
Dean, a bit startled by the sudden move, managed to show a little smile before he felt the rugged salt and pepper beard scrape towards his own scruff. Alastair kissed him deep and hard, clenching the boy close to him, hand moving still under the shirt up to his boy’s neck. Dean returned the kiss, starting to bait at Alastair’s lust by slowly forcing his tongue up against the rugged lips. Alastair grunted in approval and started to play back, meanwhile his hand grasped the back of Dean’s neck tight. Dean had moved his hands from his own sides to Alastair’s, returning the touches by slowly pulling up the neatly tucked shirt from the black jeans. As they were kissing, Alastair turned them so he was closest to the bed. He let Dean toy with his shirt for a bit, and as soon as it was fully released he sat down slowly, dragging Dean by the neck to stand on his knees in front of him. Their lips finally parted, Dean’s eyes gleaming up at his master. Alastair’s own eyes had glazed to white, observing his demon, his pet, with complete lust. 

“Tell me what to do, Alastair..” Dean gasped, hands had moved from Alastair’s midsection to his hips. Alastair started to glow almost, leaning in over his pet and cupped the brunettes head in his hands.   
“Unclothe yourself for me.” he ordered, releasing his grasp short after. He sat back in expectancy. Dean nodded and rose from his spot on the floor, slowly removing his jacket and throwing it towards a small chair close by. Alastair started humming to himself, enjoying the view in it’s full capacity. 

Dean unbuttoned his shirt and moved close the the bedside. As he dragged the shirt off, he began to toy with the ends of his t-shirt, almost baiting a reaction from Alastair. The reaction came, as Alastair sat a bit forward and let his nose brush against the t-shirt fabric. Dean lifted up the shirt and pulled it off, and as it passed his nose he felt a warm kiss near the edge of his pants. He sighed as he felt it, dropping the t-shirt behind him and felt like cupping his master’s head. He knew it was wrong to do, though. He would never have the role of master - forever the sub. 

Alastair moved away from his pet again, sitting back and moving one of his hands to his groin, obviously aroused. Dean continued as his master had commanded to unbuckle his belt. He decided to turn around and walk a bit away from the bed. He unbuttoned his pants, zipped the zipper down and let his pants fall to his ankles. He kicked off his shoes and socks - not very arousing but they couldn’t stay - and turned back to face his master with only his underwear on. Beneath them his bulge was growing slightly. Alastair nodded in appreciation and guided Dean to him with a simple gesture of his hand. Dean followed, walking slowly as to show Alastair the full movement of all his muscles as he came close. As he returned to the bedside, Alastair let his hands run up and down Dean’s legs and back, pushing with the tips of his fingers against the musculature. 

“Sit.” 

Alastair ordered, and Dean did as he was told. He dropped to his knees and sat quietly, eyes locked on his masters white eyes. Alastair moved his hand from his groin to his own belt and unbuckled it slowly with one hand. Once it was open, he sat back and motioned to Dean to grab at them. Dean understood and grabbed the edges of his master’s pants, starting to drag them down gently, exposing the powerful demon fully, manhood rock solid, clapping back towards his stomach as the fabric left it. Dean pulled the pants down to the floor, releasing his hands and moving them back up to the now bare hips. Alastair grabbed himself, slowly pumping to bait Dean closer. He leaned it forward, hand close to the root, head so close to Dean it would take nothing for it to pass his plump lips.  
Dean obeyed and opened his mouth, letting his tongue out to teasingly touch the tip. Alastair, getting impatient, grabbed his pet by the hair and forcefully pushed down Dean’s head to reach the bottom, where his other hand was holding it steady. Dean’s eyes flinched together, not being ready for the length so deep in his dry throat, feeling the saliva form around it and choking slightly. Alastair gasped as he felt the throat clasp around him, throwing his head back in ecstasy. For a while, Alastair would guide Dean’s head, slowly but surely from top to root, feeling the rush of finally having his pet completely submissive to him. He pulled so hard at Dean’s hair that he managed to pull some off, scraping hard with his nails and causing Dean’s scalp to bleed slightly. Sensing this, he dug his nails deeper and scraped harder, making Dean muffle a gasp still with the length deep in his throat. Alastair removed one of his hands and continued with the other, licking the now bloody fingertips as he felt the surge of pleasure still coming through his whole being.

“Mrnn yes pet”, he groaned deeply, “the taste of your sweet blood and, hrmmn, your warm mouth around me..”   
It didn’t take much longer for him to shoot into Dean’s throat, filling it with an acidic taste. Dean winched but took it, imagining it being something far more sweet such as blood, or maybe even beer. As Alastair’s grip softened, Dean opened his eyes to see the master’s eyes close, body shaking and muscles clearly moving beneath his skin. 

“Good.”   
Alastair sighed, dropping back on his elbows and breathing slowly. He blinked a little and cocked his head to his left, smiling at Dean.  
Dean smiled back, now sitting back and trying to think of some other sweet tastes he could remember. Maple syrup, maybe? Some of the sweets from halloween. Vanilla fudge. Anything to remove the burning, horrible taste from his throat.

“So what about you, Dean…” Alastair hummed, still not moving and manhood slowly losing it’s firmness. “Would you like something?”  
The fact that he even asked confused Dean a little - he didn’t recall kindness or retaliation when it had anything to do with sexual favours. Dean himself had opted to just not act on his urges since he landed in Hell, basically keeping himself completely for Alastair.   
“I uhh, I don’t really…” he muttered , sitting down on his ass instead of his knees now, folding his legs under him. He shook his head and tried to say no, but in the same moment Alastair sat back up and sorted himself by putting everything back in it’s place, zipping up the pants and ultimately standing up to tuck in his shirt. He walked towards the door, grabbing Dean’s jacket from the chair it had landed on and threw it over by Dean, who was sitting in confusion with his head over his shoulder, trying to make sense of what was happening. Usually Alastair was up and ready for more within seconds, but something seemed off on this little act.

“Great. See yourself out, will you.” Alastair said with a cold tone, leaving the room and slamming the door again, never looking back at Dean. Dean felt very conflicted; on one hand he was thrilled he didn’t have to spend hours locked to the bed, letting Alastair take full advantage of him, but on another level he was disappointed and somewhat frustrated now. He stood up and went to pick up his pants, looking out the window of the room but nothing could be seen or heard outside of it. 

He left a little while after, still confused and frustrated. This was the first evening since he was back that he would touch himself, howling in frustration as he released.


	6. Eyes Like The Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley asks Dean if he wants a little change of scenery for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry for the delay in chapter releases! Been writing at night and basically dying from the heat during the day so things are slowing down a little bit. Here's the next chapter though, enjoy and hope to get the next one out within the next few days.

A year passed and the young demon had proved his rank and position to the master, the Prime. Every day Dean would slice up a good dusin souls, some quickly done, others feeling the full extent of his talents. Another apprentice had been thrown under Alastair, leaving little to no time for them to truly spend time together. At some point Dean stopped thinking about it, probably after his 500th victim alone, and as one could have imagined this was when Alastair popped by for a little reunion - he didn’t, however. It was safe to say Dean felt a little jealous not having Alastair’s undivided attention, but he hadn’t seen or heard of this apprentice at all yet. Not from Alastair, Crowley or any other demons. Obviously it wasn’t anyone important, since Dean was still the only one kneeling at Alastair’s feet when they finally did meet.

A problem Dean had with the time apart from his master was that he had trouble remembering his eyes. He kept getting them mixed up with the other deep blue pair that he once had felt so connected to. For each carving, for each body and soul he sliced on his own, he felt the connection between him and Alastair fade away more and more. It made him wonder - wasn’t it supposed to pull him further down the pit, further into the grasps? And furthermore, why did he even think these things? Where did that come from?

Dean walked out of a chamber with his cart full of intestines and body parts. In all honesty it would have made Alastair very upset with him, but at this point he didn’t care. He parked the cart and the door slammed shut behind him, and as he slowly walked up from the catacombs he was met at the top by Crowley, who stood as usual with his hands deeply sat in the coat pockets. Dean would give a nod and his eyes turned black in acknowledgement to his King, past quarrels being just that now - past. 

“Well if it isn’t the prodigy of our interrogation crew. So glad to see you up here finally”, Crowley said with glee. Dean didn’t repay the positivity however, being tired from carving up people all day.   
“What can I do for you Crowley” he replied with a cold tone.   
“Now now, why so negative? Have the hounds been stealing your sacks of meat?” jokingly Crowley replied. Dean just shook his head and rolled his eyes, although it was practically impossible to tell had it not been from his distinctive expression. Crowley shrug it off and turned, patted Dean on his back and guided Dean to walk with him. Dean followed without even thinking - force of habit, he later thought to himself. 

“So, since you’re running a short five years on this little contract, I figured you would like a change of scenery. Besides, Alastair being away all the time-”  
Crowley stopped himself to check on Dean’s reaction, which was practically non-existent. He decided to continue,  
“- I’m sure you have no problem with taking a little holiday upstairs.” 

Dean shrug. It wasn’t completely true that he didn’t have a problem leaving - what if Alastair chose to come back when he was gone? Would he feel angry? Dean did his best to try and stay on his master’s good side. 

“Sure, whatever” he chose to reply, getting guided by Crowley to a small bar close by. It was empty other than a ragged old female demon behind the bar. They sat at a corner of the bar, Crowley nodded at the bartender who moved instantly to find two cold beers in a small dirty fridge. Dean was positive that Crowley only was a whisky kind of fellow, but he took no further thought of it. Free beer, hell, who ever says no to that.

“So what’s the deal, am I going up for any specific reason or do you just want to show me a whole new world”, Dean said grinning to himself, swigging from his bottle and returning his eyes to their normal state. Crowley smiled back at the stupid reference and took a sip himself.  
“Well I figured since you get to spend so much time with the poor bastards we collect, you might as well tag along for a catch yourself. After all, it is part of the fun - the chase and such.” 

Dean nodded and remembered how he had thought to himself, the first day he came down here, that he would’ve liked to try his luck with a crossroads-deal. He didn’t complain about where he had been assigned but, yeah, as a change of pace and some time away from the endless carvings - sure, a trip topside would probably do him some good.

“Yeah, sure. I’m up for it.”   
Crowley nodded and tipped the neck of his beer towards Dean, looking up from his lower stature to Dean with a crooked smile on his face. Dean nodded back and clinked with the King, swigging back the rest of the beer in a big gulp. 

It didn’t take long for a deal to be made outside of Benson, Minnesota. A middle aged woman had tried multiple times over the years but it wasn’t until now any demon had replied to her pleads. As she stood crying at the edge of the crossroads, Dean suddenly stood in the middle of it all in his old, rugged leather jacket and scruffy jeans. 

“Don’t worry. You won’t have to wait any longer.” 

The woman lifted her head instantly, tears stopping and her heart beating faster. She turned and her gaze fell upon the rugged man, beautifully bathed in moonlight. Surrounded by nothing but fields for miles they had their privacy - a perfect place for these devil deals.  
“You.. you finally came” she gasped, moving with haste towards him. Instinctively Dean took a few steps back, hands in pockets and simply shook his head to her.  
“Well, I never really were meant to come in the first place but I’m acting as intern for a while” he said jokingly. The joke didn’t really make sense to the woman who simply looked more distraught, clearly thinking the demons were simply toying with her.

“What, I don’t-”  
“Sorry, sorry” Dean sighed, “Yes. We finally got your call. We’re sorry it took so long.” 

He leaned back on one leg, relaxing his back and making sure he seemed fairly open. He was still a bit rugged and not used to actual human contact anymore, all things considered.. he only got the scraps down in the pit.  
“What can I do for you?” 

“I-I, uh.. We-”, she stuttered, scared and nervous.  
“Hey hey-” Dean said whilst moving slowly forwards, taking his hands out of his pockets and handing them out towards her calmly, “don’t be scared. I’m here for a reason. Don’t be afraid to tell me.”   
She nodded but retreated herself a bit from Dean’s gestures, unsure what to do with herself now that she finally got her call heard.

“It’s my son,” she started out, and instantly something distant pulled in Dean. Anything with kids used to effect him greatly, and he tried to remind himself that his old life was over with, all that humanity was gone.. right?  
“My son had a terrible accident about two years ago.. He was a promising violinist with his whole future laid out in front of him.. But he got caught in his college dorm when a fire broke out and.. well,” she eyed up at Dean, “he lost most of his right hand fingers and.. well.”

Dean nodded in understanding. He was sure that the poor kid was broken but it was clear that the woman was completely torn by it. Without much hesitation they made a deal, sealing it with a gentle kiss. The son would gain his fingers back by some crazy high-tech invention a mysterious donor came with out of nowhere with. The kid would eventually go back to a high-end music college and the mother would, of course, be collected in ten years time - if she should be that lucky. 

The deal was done. The woman and Dean parted ways, the woman driving slowly out and away whilst Dean trotted for himself towards a rock at the edge of the road. He didn’t consider going back instantly to Hell, and decided to sit and stare at the beautiful night sky for the first time in years. His green eyes sparkled, somewhat finding peace in the dead silence on the road.   
He let out a small sigh, folding his hands together and tried to remember how his brother looked. Even after staring at that ugly mug for so many years, it really did seem like most of his life as human had been erased when his demon side took over. He wondered how his brother was doing, hell he even wondered how Bobby was. But he knew it was too risky to approach either of them at this point. News about his demonic new self had probably reached them ages ago, and he knew that Hell had set their largest hounds out to guard for him to avoid anyone from bringing him back to life and humanity.

He took a last glance upwards before standing up and putting his hands back in his pockets. He moved towards the summoning spot and prepared to leave when he felt a presence suddenly appearing behind him, and a soft but raspy voice called out for the demon;

“Dean. Is it.. is it really you?”

Dean stopped in his steps and he felt his gut clenching inside of him. He had a feeling that he would regret staying, and that it would come back to haunt him later, either within himself or if Alastair found out.

“Cas.” Dean proclaimed, turning slowly to see a the angel’s silhouette encased in moonlight. If Dean had still been human he would have had to catch his breath. Instead he gritted his teeth and sighed to himself. He just wanted a relaxing night, he didn’t need to get reminded about.. well.. Him.

“How’d you find me?.. More importantly.. why?”  
Dean’s eyes dropped from the angel to the ground, trying his best not to let his demon-instincts push out the black eyes. He didn’t want to seem hostile towards Cas, at least not so early in their conversation.   
“I sensed you. Or.. what there’s left of you,” Castiel muttered, trying to find Dean’s eyes even though he did his best to hide in the collar of his jacket. Cas felt like moving closer but knew it was risky.

“Well, there’s practically nothing left but the meat suit so, sorry to disappoint. I’ll be on my way then-”   
“Dean, please.” 

The pleading in Cas’ voice made Dean sigh out loud and at the same moment his eyes turned black. He shook his head, trying to understand why the angel was even trying. Dean was lost, completely and utterly, and if it wasn’t for Crowley’s work Dean would probably not even have any spot in the world as it was right now.   
“What”, Dean said aggressively, making sure to lean his face up towards the light so Cas would understand completely what he was up against.  
“Besides, weren’t you supposed to be drained of Angel juice?” 

“I.. We, worked. Me and Sam. Found a way. Thing’s are fairly peaceful now up here.”   
“Right. Great. Good.” 

Somehow, it pleased Dean somewhere deep inside to hear that things were alright - that Sam and Cas were doing good. He didn’t understand how he felt like this, though, but he did. He shrugged to himself and tried to stand as comfortably as before when he made the deal with the woman - to at least look like he was somewhat confident in his presence near the angel.

“You don’t have to act like you want to be here, Dean. I know the demon in you just wants to leave.”   
“Yeah, so, let me get out of your hair-”   
“Dean-”   
“No, Cas-” Dean growled assertively, bulking up his shoulders.   
“It’s no good. Not for you, not for me.”

Cas nodded with sorrow in those blue, deep eyes. Eyes that reminded Dean of the oceans he had seen in his life. That same pit that kept the memories about Ben, Sam, Bobby.. The same pit where he felt some kind of joy when he heard topside was doing well - it pained him to turn down Cas’ pleads. Somewhere he wished he could stay topside and talk a while longer, but he had an overwhelming fear that Alastair would pop up out of nowhere and not only punish Dean but Cas - and for some damned reason, that still mattered.

“I’ll be seeing you Cas.”, Dean finished off, forcing his eyes back to his deep green, locking sight with Cas for a little while.  
“Yes, Dean. Be seeing you.” 

Dean wandered around Hell for a few hours after that, contemplating why he had reacted as he had. Didn’t his demonic soul burn away every inch of humanity he had left? Why did more and more.. “human” like traits come back to him? First the fear of solitude, second his jealousy towards Alastair’s potential new pet - now this.. mixture of sorrow and longing for the deep, ocean eyes. He hoped somewhere that no-one was listening to his trail of thought - who would want an impure demon at the helm of intel? If Crowley found out he would surely tell Alastair, who would quickly treat him as the first time he had a trip down here. 

He ended his night as it had started - slowly moving into a new torture chamber to slice into a recently harvested soul. There were big plans being made in Hell and he had gotten new orders to prepare some new soldiers. And so, he carved…


	7. Trouble In The Ranks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastair has been missing for a long time and Dean is asked to substitute for him at a big meeting.

“Stop, please! I beg you! Please!” 

Black, deep eyes burned onto the face of a mutilated man on the rack. Jaw barely connected, the man pleaded with all of what remained of his power.

“I can’t take it anymore, please!”

The black eyes turned away, the man behind them picking up a heavy club with rusty nails. Cold fingers ran through the gaps on the flaked wood, slowly picking pieces of teeth and bones that had been stuck in it from previous use.

“P-please-”

With a whack the man was stopped in his begging, jaw getting ripped off in a swift slam by the heavy club. The jaw flew across the floor into the dark void around them, carrying spit and dark blood with it, making a trail into the nothingness.   
A bloody gurgle and drowning scream tried to make it’s way through but the club was swung again, this time upwards, getting caught in the now open gap of the man’s face. Nails were sticking out the cheeks and deep into the man’s skull, knocking out another pair of teeth as it had connected.

“Stop whining, bitch.”

Dean forced the club a bit further into the skull and dropped his hands once it felt secured up there. He retracted his black eyes but kept his aggravated look, clearly annoyed by the guy he had been assigned to break today.   
He shook his head as he trotted to the table of toys, pulling off his shirt to expose his sweaty chest. Sometimes he’d forgotten how hot Hell really was, thinking it had been a bad idea to have gone topside those few months back. Ever since then he had trouble staying fully clothed through the sessions since he would sweat so much his clothes would stick, hinder him from making perfect full-length slices and swings with larger weapons. 

“Hello, boys.”

The jaw from before was kicked back into the light and being followed by good old Crowley. Dean eyed the jaw and the trail from before, up to Crowley’s spit-shined black shoes. As usual he let his black eyes return when in the presence of the King, almost like it was the way they were hardwired down here. The man on the rack started to try and scream again, obviously impossible but it infuriated Dean that he couldn’t just keep his - partial - mouth shut. Dean grit his teeth and turned on his heel, slamming a fist into the man’s stomach, breaking a few ribs with ease.  
“What can I help you with Crowley”, Dean almost shouted, flinging another punch into the now nimble body before him but not turning his head.

“I just thought I’d check in on Hell’s prodigy,” Crowley said, “seems like you’ve been the highest contributor of new soldiers in quite some time.”   
Dean nodded and smiled slightly, back getting pulled back and shoulders dropping with some pride. He knew he’d done well. Even without Alastair to guide him.  
“Leave the poor bloke alone for a bit and have a seat, I have some business to discuss with you” Crowley continued, and with a snap of his fingers some small chairs and a low table appeared at the edge of the darkness. 

Dean turned his head to look at the jaw, lying so oddly between him and Crowley. The little gaping sensation in him from earlier started to poke a bit, questioning him why he didn’t feel disgusted or frightened with his own strength. These little things would come more and more often, but instead of confronting it he had upped his amount of souls per day and had turned to more brutal, large weapons such as the club. Maybe it was his way of dealing with the unknown void. He still had doubts that all humanity had been scorched from him, still fearing the wrath of Alastair if he were to ever find out his pet wasn’t purebred.  
He walked over and sat down opposite Crowley, resting tired arms on his thighs and folding his hands together. Crowley had, in the meantime, presented a bottle of scotch on the table and had started to pour to the both of them. He handed one to Dean who accepted and took a quick swig of it. 

“Thanks, I was starting to dry-heave here” Dean gasped as he finished his drink, fondling the cold glass in his hands to cool them.   
“I see you’ve been working up quite the sweat. Hell’s getting too hot for you?” Crowley said as he sat back in his chair, only lightly sipping his drink. “Please, help yourself” he continued, pointing with his glass to the almost full bottle. Dean couldn’t say no to another drink, pouring one quick and trying not to chug it as quickly. 

“So, the soldier thing,” Dean started, “what’s up with that anyway? Thought things were pretty steady right now.”   
“Well, you know. Word on the street is that your brother and boytoy are trying their best to hoist you back from the pit. Moose sure won’t let you rot in peace will he?” Crowley grunted as he took another sip.  
“Thought you said your best hounds were on guard.”  
“Ah well, they are. Down here, anyway. But you’re important Dean. Like I said, you have been providing us with quite a big lot of fresh demons, and who knows when someone else will try and close our business.”

Dean nodded in understanding. Other hunters were probably keen on closing the gates or laying waste to the top dogs again, including himself now. Alastair had been missing for months now, no questions asked of course, so Dean had been set as Prime in his absence. The job wasn’t any harder, Dean thought, but maybe it was because he was used to it from his apprenticeship. 

“So, speaking of business!” Crowley said as he almost jumped up in his seat again, “We’re gathering the Prime’s to discuss our topside teams. There’s some whispering of another tablet somewhere, one to let the big boss out again.”  
“What, and he won’t need a vessel?” Dean questioned, brows furrowing.  
“Of course! But you know.. Moose is weaker without you up there. What would be the point, right?”

Dean nodded again, staring down into his half filled glass.   
“Do we have the tablet yet?” He continued, knowing that of course they didn’t.  
“No, not yet. Which is why we need some special forces up top. I’ve had my eyes on sending you up to keep track of the interrogations and all that jazz. You know, the usual. Just with a boring view”, Crowley said, taking the last sip of his drink.   
“What about Alastair.” Dean asked coldly, partially out of worry.   
“Alastair has, hm-hm” Crowley said, clearing his throat, “he’s had other business to attend to. That new apprentice of his has turned out to be a bigger struggle than we first anticipated.”  
“Right.”  
“He’s coming back soon though I’m sure!”   
“..right.” 

Dean and Crowley would continue their conversation for quite some time, slowly emptying the bottle, soul still on the rack nearby. Dean thought Crowley felt somewhat fond of him, not in the same way as Alastair but in a friendly manner, seeing how much they had fought against and with each other topside. And besides, it was Crowley’s doing Dean had gone dark side anyway, let’s not forget.

They agreed on Dean coming to the meeting which would be later that day, seeing as Crowley couldn’t get a hold of Alastair and they had to run tactics through the whole team. The men said their goodbyes, Crowley vanishing into the void again and Dean slowly walking over to the rack again, sensing the man tensing up with every step the torturer went closer.   
“I’m done with you.”   
With wrath he ripped out the club and without warning smashed it, full force, into the man’s chest a few times, leaving the body completely torn and soft, blood spurting and bones peaking out here and there. 

As Dean started to clean up the session he turned around and noticed the jaw still lying there, all dried up now. He went to pick it up, leaning down and grabbing one of the sides as a heavy foot suddenly slammed down on the top of his hand, locking him on the floor, jaw getting forced into him. Dean got startled and fell on his elbows and knees as the bone and broken teeth got forced into the palm of his hand. “What the hell?!” he gritted and looked up;

Alastair.

Dean’s heart sunk deep into his guts, eyes switching from normal to black constantly with every blink - what was going on? How in the hell was he here? Why?!   
“A-Alastair, what’re you-”  
“Quiet, son”, Alastair growled back, further pushing Dean’s hand down on the broken jaw, forcing fresh blood to smear out over the already hardened black. Dean started to yell in pain, feeling some tendons getting pushed and cut on the inside, losing the feeling of his little finger. His eyes had finally settled on pitch black, trying to find focus somewhere on Alastair’s face but it was nigh impossible with the pain surging through him.

“I heard your little.. chat with Crowley. Since when were you the boss here, hm?” 

Obviously Alastair felt threatened but Dean didn’t understand why. All he had done was take over for his master in his absence, he had no desire to be above him but since he had upped and left out of nowhere, someone had to. 

“I- I’m not, but you left and-”   
Alastair twisted his foot, Dean reacting by simply screaming now - the tendon snapped and the blood was streaming heavily from a now large gash in his hand, his upper body sinking further to the ground and nose almost landing on the large pool of blood that was forming underneath him.

“No-one!” Alastair shouted, moving his face quickly down towards Dean, “No-one but me get to say what goes for our department other than me. What I’ve been doing is none of your business, and you should have known better than taking over.”  
“But I didn’t! It was Crowl-” Dean whimpered.  
“Shut up!” 

Dean felt Alastair grow above him, almost reminding him of his father. He was ready for the coming wrath.


	8. Meeting With The Big Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley calls in the Primes and their apprentices to talk big business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge chapter guys, hope you enjoy!

The meeting started and all the Primes of the 9 districts of Hell were present. Crowley sat at the end of the long, dark table, observing every leader at their positions. Behind them stood their main apprentices - a system Crowley had put in place to make sure someone would be able to take over, in case the Primes were targeted and killed. Crowley’s eyes found Alastair sitting furthest away from him on the left, slight smile to his face and white eyes beaming. Behind him stood Dean - or, whatever was left of him. Alastair had not bothered to clean up his dirty work after brutally beating up Dean hours before. Blood was still running from a large gash across Dean’s right eye, dripping on the shoulder of his leather jacket. Dean stood silent, having trouble keeping himself up right but doing his best, eyes partially closed from swelling and pain. The rest of the apprentices were all dressed neatly and were all focused on their Primes in front of them.

“Gentlemen - and gentleladies - so good to see you all. Glad you all could make it,” Crowley started off, sitting forward in his chair and leaning over the table slightly.   
“If we didn’t come you’d have our heads,” the Prime, Eligos, would chuckle causing the rest to laugh along with him. Crowley just nodded and smiled slightly, waiting for the joke to die down and everyone to rest a little. 

“Yes, well. That’s the price. You of all should know.”  
A bit of banter went back and forth and the apprentices were told to go outside the meeting room and wait until they would be called in for their missions. As Dean started to move towards the door, Alastair grabbed his arm and pulled him down, whispering in his ear “I’m not done with you, boy.” Dean shivered and nodded in obedience, standing up again and following the other apprentices out. As they were walking in a straight formation, Dean still held a character to himself and very nonchalantly strode out as the last of the pack. The door was closed behind them and the apprentices went to a small area nearby with sofas and chairs ready for them. 

Dean, as the last, decided to lean up against a wall instead and tucked his hands into his pockets, trying to make sure he didn’t touch any of his bruising. He could feel a few bent ribs as he went to lean into position and grunted slightly, but shook it off after a while. He noticed that the walls were just as blank and white as they had been the first day he walked into the giant office building, and still wondered why Crowley prefered this decor over.. anything else. But, to be fair, Dean had always thought high-end business men were assholes and devils in their own ways, so it made sense for him somehow.   
The other apprentices started to mutter words between them, some of them looking over at Dean in disgust and almost pity.

“You know, Alastair is probably the most important demon any of us will be around, ever.” the apprentice of the goon-squad leader said, shaking his head.   
“Yeah, so?” Dean retorted quickly, not even bothering to look at who was talking to him.  
“So - maybe you should stop being such a failure and actually earn your spot, you sorry sack of shit.”  
The others nodded and agreed loudly, shaking their heads and some correcting their suits and ties.

“Well maybe you should stop sucking so much dick and get to work yourself, bitch. Didn’t hear about you getting personal chit chats with the King, I don’t know, ever.” Dean growled back, trying to loosen up a knot in his neck. He sensed where this was going and wanted to make sure he didn’t strain himself too hard.  
“Bullshit. I’ve been here so much longer than you, I should have-” the demon muttered.  
“Yeah well you didn’t. Suck it up.” 

The apprentice, called Pheonix, stood up and puffed his chest slightly as he slowly walked closer to Dean before stopping about a foot away from him. Not until he stopped did Dean pay him any mind, lifting his head slowly and almost rudely.   
“Listen here you sad piece of human waste. Some of us have actually earned our spot. You’re only here because Alastair likes his boy-toys young and human-” 

Before finishing his sentence Dean grabbed Pheonix by his throat with his right hand and forcing the demon up against the wall, lifting him off the ground with ease - a move Alastair enjoyed doing on Dean when he was being defiant.   
“You shut your mouth, whore.” Dean growled as he tightened his grip on the throat before him, one that hadn’t experienced much flaying he thought. As he growled the rest of the apprentices stood up and some moved closer hesitantly, a few of them readying for a fight.  
“Y-you’re th-eh only whore he-here, Dean” Pheonix coughed, trying to force the tight grip away from his throat but to no avail.

“Let him go!” another apprentice shouted, but Dean only smirked at the corner of his mouth. He knew they started to fear him a little now, even if they did hurt him somewhat. If this is what the top dogs’ pets thought of him, what would the actual Primes not think? He knew he had a special kind of relationship with Alastair, but when it came to their line of work a different kind of relation had to be there - at least so he thought.  
After Pheonix managed to cough out a “help”, a few of the apprentices jumped on Dean, forcing his grip off and started to beat him up, Dean fighting back as much as possible - at some point it was five against one, But Dean didn’t fall or let his guard down at any point, managing to break a nose and bend some ribs in a few swings. The fight went on for no longer than a few minutes as a secretary would open the door from the meeting room and call them all in. At this point a lot of Dean’s previous wounds had sprung open again, the steady stream from his eye returning in full power. He smeared it out across the side of his face, licking off a few drops that had reached his top lip. 

The other apprentices straightened their suits and tried to hide their bruised knuckles and faces, and as a steady force they all went back inside, positioning behind their Primes once more - Dean, of course, returning as the last one, sluggishly walking in. Alastair eyed him, white eyes almost burning through Dean, shaking his head from side to side, as if he was disappointed in his apprentice. Dean smiled with cockiness, almost baiting and Alastair’s rage.

“Alright gang, here’s the plan. We’re setting up some stations around the US in search of the lost tablet. Alastair has, ever so kindly, accepted that Dean will be leading the interrogation crew located at St. Louis, Missouri. We want to stay close to the box but not too close.”   
Crowley kept explaining, but once Dean heard he was going topside full time he felt a bit torn. When Alastair had been missing he had probably been fine with it, but now he didn’t want to leave his master’s side. Besides, what about that strange feeling he had been battling for a while? What if he stumbled over Sam on his trip up top? He didn’t even want to consider what was going to happen.

Most of the fighting forces would be scattered in the bigger cities around the US, trying to find information and people to bring back to the interrogations. Dean would supervise and be the main guy for deciding whether or not a lead would be worth pursuing. Alastair had also agreed to come topside once it was needed to bring intel back down. Cross-roads demons would make their deals shorter, between 2-5 years, and if possible the assassination demons would cash in on the deals a lot earlier. Crowley predicted a large fight coming, or if they had no issues they would need a large army for Lucifer to lead.   
Most of the apprentices would be sent topside, leaving only a few in Hell with their masters. None of the ones that had been barking at Dean were sent with him, because Crowley considered Dean to be the most competent of the apprentices. Hearing this, Dean smirked with glee and nodded, staring especially at Pheonix. 

The meeting ended, Primes and apprentices leaving the room. Crowley had asked for Alastair and Dean to stay however, mostly to hear what was going on with Alastair’s other apprentice and hear Dean out about the fight outside. Dean went over it quickly, not mentioning how the apprentices had talked about Alastair’s… preferences, but stating they all seemed jealous and greedy. Crowley didn’t find it surprising and would make sure the other primes were told how their apprentices were acting.  
Alastair didn’t spend much time either explaining about the other apprentice, leaving Dean curious. Apparently it was a demon that had been found working with hunters topside, potentially being a good spy or Trojan Horse if Hell would need it. Dean had a hard time understanding why Alastair would be breaking a demon like that, especially one that wasn’t needed for combat or intel. Surely someone else would be more fit for the task.

“So, we’re ready for this, yes?” Crowley said, clasping his hands together above the table top.  
“The armies have grown quite a bit, thanks to Dean here”, Alastair said with the familiar hum, “so we should have the ground forces at least.”  
Dean couldn’t find out what was going on with Alastair - one moment he was furious, the next he was complimenting Dean’s work - what was really going on? He felt so frustrated not being able to read his master.   
“Great! We’ll send you up in a week Dean, so enjoy yourself a bit before you leave, yeah?” Crowley smirked, nodding suggestively towards Dean, obviously trying to be funny but it missed completely. Dean was not really focusing, frightened almost to go home with Alastair, not sure what to think, do or say.

The door got closed silently and the sound of it getting locked rang through the cold, quiet room. Dean stood close to the dinner table, hand slowly tracing a crack in the top, listening intensely after Alastair. Hardly any sound came as the master walked past Dean slowly, moving deeper into the apartment, stopping at the bedside nearby.   
“What’s going on Alastair?” Dean asked, still eyes focused on the crack, voice low but concerned.  
“I don’t feel like I know who you are lately. You’re so distant. And your mood swings constantly.”

Alastair dropped his shoulders a little, starting to unbutton his shirt but listening to Dean’s every word. He took of the shirt and threw it on a chair nearby, stretching his arms upwards after, trying to reach the ceiling as to sort out some knots in his back.   
“I just… I want to know if I did something. I’ve missed you terribly and you come back and beat the living crap out of me.” Dean continued, now looking up at the muscular back a few steps in front of him, biting the inside of his lip a little but not from lust.  
“And I swear, Crowley was the one who thought I should sit at the Prime table in case you didn’t come back. I never even suggested it. I just waited for you.”  
There was a dead silence, neither of the men moving a muscle.

“...You never came, though.”

Alastair finally turned around on his heel and looked at Dean with a calm face, cold blue eyes shining in what seemed like moonlight outside.  
“Son…” he started out, moving a bit on his feet and placing his hands on his hips, obviously uncomfortable - a stature Dean had never seen before.  
“You’re a demon now. Back when… well, when you and I started together you were merely a human. Much weaker, much easier to bend as I wanted it. But now…”. One of his hands travelled to the back of his neck, scratching it lightly and he looked a bit down on the ground.  
“Now you’re a demon. And I know what it takes to keep a demon in line. You’re strong, Dean, and independent. If only I could keep your affection just by having you on my rack every so often… I just know it isn’t enough anymore.”

Dean felt a bit astounded hearing Alastair so… human, almost. Honest about his feelings, honest about worries and fears. Dean nodded and took off his jacket, deciding it would be best to sit down at the table and listen to his master with full concentration before responding.  
Alastair walked over to the table as well, pulling a chair from the opposite side of Dean and placing it next to him, sitting down afterwards and placing both hands on Dean’s leg, elbows resting on his own legs.

“I’ve been gone for so long because I knew I had to break you differently this time. I knew poking at your human side is no use anymore, and you’re the best piece of meat I’ve carved in, in all my time, so pulling you apart will not suffice anymore either. But, leaving you…”  
Dean’s hands went to lay on Alastair’s, who reacted by intertwining their fingers together, still not looking Dean in the eyes. Dean still sat quietly, very interested and almost honored to hear these things from the, undoubtedly, most feared demon in Hell currently.

“Leaving you would leave you wondering. Scared. Frustrated. And jealous. I wanted that. I wanted to feel the worry, fear, envy… Which is also why I was so cruel to you today.”  
“I’m not sure I understand why, but…”  
“You don’t have to, my son. I felt you needed me. And with every punch I felt your affection. I’m still terrified however, that you’ll go away some day.”  
“I don’t plan to, you know.”  
“No, but others might want to take you from me. That stinking angel, your idiotic brother…”   
“No-one is coming, Alastair.”

And as a rare act, the apprentice cupped the master’s face gently, eyes locking and electricity almost started between them.

“I’m not going to let them take me, if they ever would. I belong here, in Hell, at your side. I’m the prodigal son, remember? No-one will dare.” 

Dean felt Alastair almost melt in his hands, pulling the master close and planting a soft, tender kiss on the top of his lips. They both closed their eyes, Alastair scooting closer to Dean in his seat, hands moving from his pet’s legs to his hips and started to kiss more passionately. For a while they sat in silence, kissing intensely, scruff and beard grinding their skin, tongues teasing at one-another. Alastair quickly grew tired of the silence however and decided to run a hand up Dean’s stomach, nails scratching hard as it went down again, leaving Dean whimpering slightly and jumping in his seat. The jump excited Alastair even more as he decided to stand up and pull Dean with him, hands searching every inch of Dean’s torso passionately. Dean was almost in a trance, continuing his kisses and he had now moved his hands to the back of his master’s neck, grabbing at his hair every so often.

Alastair got enough of the clothes between them and separated from the kisses to tear off Dean’s shirts. Once they were off, with hardly any help from Dean, Alastair grabbed his pet by the arms and threw him at the bed, body dropping quickly. Dean, equally excited now, quickly disposed of his pants and underwear as he laid there, Alastair removing his own as well. Instead of jumping in the bed immediately, Alastair walked around the bed and with a hand-motion made Dean scoot further up, already laying his arms up towards the headboard of the bed. In it were carved out two circular holes with metal bars in the middle, and Alastair jumped on Dean’s chest with two metal handcuffs, quickly locking him in. Whilst getting locked down, Dean could reach Alastair’s throbbing dick in front of him and with no hesitation he locked his lips around the swollen head, gently sucking and letting his tongue play around it. Alastair groaned deeply and as he finished the last lock he didn’t pull back but pushed forward ruthlessly, forcing the full length into the warm mouth and quickly thrusting a few times. As the head hit the back of his throat Dean started to choke, with every pull back he tried to cough but quickly got filled again. He could feel Alastair almost releasing already, but the master swiftly pulled himself off of Dean and moved down the bed a bit to sit between Dean’s spread legs. Alastair bit his lips and his eyes turned white, touching himself slowly with the saliva from Dean’s mouth still on it. Dean laid still but was gasping for air after being having the length so far in his throat, eyes being deep and black as he blinked a little and looked up at Alastair.

The master leaned in over Dean again but kept his knees on the bed and supported Dean’s legs a little, crawling a bit forward and pushing Dean’s ass and legs up with him. Alastair blinked slyly and turned his head to the little dresser next to the bed, opening up a small shelf and pulled up a sharp knife reminiscent of Ruby’s. Dean knew what was coming now and in preparation he flexed his abs.   
“Are you gonna gag me this time?” he grunted under his breath.  
Alastair shook his head and leaned back in his seat, still supporting Dean’s behind firmly on his own thighs. Slowly he took the blade to the soft skin on Dean’s inner thighs and cut gently, making a large, deep cut, dark blood running quickly and smearing on both their legs. Dean hissed and squirmed a little, feeling the blade burn his skin whilst it cut. Alastair continued with a few more cuts on the same leg and onto the other, letting blood run over them slowly, moving on to Dean’ stomach and chest. With every cut Dean fell deeper into a trance-like state, feeling the rush from the pain, the sensation of the blade and blood running over his body. Once the master had done his carvings he smeared his hand in the thick blood streams on his pet’s stomach, licking his fingers and running his now wet hands over his manhood, readying himself. He pushed himself closer to Dean, who at this point was barely present mentally, and after barely touching his pet’s entrance he forced himself up as deep as he could.

Dean shouted loudly and almost blinked back into consciousness, feeling violated but still buzzing from the pleasant sensation of the carving from before. Whilst thrusting deep, Alastair curled down and drank from the open wounds on Dean’s stomach, and the more he worked him the more Dean started to melt and open for his master, feeling himself getting drained slowly but also filled completely. The sensation was extreme, and as Alastair pushed deep and fast whilst his tongue traveled at the edge of a cut Dean came, not being able to contain himself any longer. He shot up and hit Alastair’s chin, who moved his head slightly up to look at his pet screaming in pleasure. He smiled and started to thrust even deeper, pulling at Dean’s body with every move, blood smeared all over his face. It didn’t take much longer for the Prime to release as well, lifting Dean a bit as his body tensed up in ecstasy.

“Mrnn my boy… I missed you.”

They fell asleep not long after, wounds still gaping and the bed sheets drenched with blood and sweat. The master and apprentice embraced each other in their sleep, both feeling content and satisfied for once in a long while.


	9. What's The Price Of Humanity?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastair and Dean prepare to be apart for a while as topside mission begins.

Dawn broke on Hell - or, well, what would seem like it - and Alastair tried to forget all about his splurge of emotions and concerns the night before. It was not normal for him to act and seem so vulnerable towards anyone. He had gotten out of bed early, leaving Dean groggy and cold in the bed, and had stepped into the shower.   
Dean woke up slowly, grasping out to his side to find his lover but no one was there. He grunted with disapproval and turned to lay on his stomach, cold sheets encasing his body fully. Alastair came out a few minutes after, dressed only in tight, black pants, water still dripping down from his hair and wet back. Dean looked up at him with sleepy eyes and smiled, almost love-drunk after the rumble they had yesterday.

“Hey gorgeous,” he mumbled under his breath, starting to stretch mid sentence and cuddling up against the soft pillows over him. Alastair looked at his pet, almost in a new light, but knew he had to still be very dominant in order to keep a hold of Dean’s affection. He couldn’t leave Dean there alone though and sneaked his way down under the covers, pulling Dean onto his bare chest. Dean was almost asleep again, but had no issue with curling up so close to his master.  
“That was a mighty big word you used for me there, Dean” Alastair hummed calmly, brushing a hand through his pet’s hair.   
“Well you are gorgeous. To me.” Dean gruffed, moving a bit up from Alastair’s stomach to his shoulder, forehead touching his master’s jawline.  
“I know you like this suit the best. Glad you still find it -that- appealing though” Alastair said. 

They rested for a while, Alastair’s fingertips brushing up and down Dean’s naked arms. After a while they both fell asleep again, complete calm between them. Dean woke first the second time and looked up at Alastair sleeping peacefully. It had been a while since he had seen him so.. relaxed, he thought, and very slowly sat up to wake up more. As he sat on the edge of the bed he tried to work around what Alastair had said last night, concerning his fears of Dean slipping through his fingers again, and that it took a lot more to keep demon-Dean rooted here. He didn’t quite understand what Alastair meant - the only thing Dean could recall had been an issue was losing touch with the blue eyes and falling back into the angel’s eyes a while back, but he certainly had no wish to leave his master’s side - heck, he’d been fighting hard to do well and good for Alastair even when he hadn’t been around. Plus, no one really were coming to snatch him from Hell this time, or so it would seem, so the fear felt… unnecessary, Dean thought.

He decided to get up and grab a shower himself, checking for wounds and bruises. He did have a few, but thankfully most had healed through the night - demon-form sure had its perks. Warm water fell over him, steam rising, and his muscles started to relax completely. He closed his eyes and imagined Alastair’s hands run all over him as they had the night before, equally caressing and ripping him apart, blood flowing all over them both. He sucked on his bottom lip as he started to touch himself, and suddenly another hand slithered behind him to help. Alastair had awakened again and stood, still in his pants, completely over Dean, starting to bite his neck. Dean let his grip fall and lifted his arm to hold Alastair’s neck, melting to the bites, kisses and touches. Alastair leaned his other arm on the side of the wall, grinding himself up against Dean with every stroke he did on his pet. Dean started to moan and gasp, digging his fingernails into Alastair’s neck who retorted by biting a bit deeper into the tense neck muscles in front of him. Demonic words started to get whispered into Dean’s ear, further pushing him to his limits, so much so he had to stop himself from falling by reaching out in front of him, supporting himself. 

“Come for me, boy” Alastair hissed, and as he wished so it should be - Dean came almost instantly, moaning loudly and passionately, buckling in his knees. Alastair took him through the feeling completely, biting deep and hard into his pet’s neck, drawing blood and letting it trickle down slowly, mixing with the warm water.

Both were now clothed, Dean looking out the window of the room to see demons running through the streets outside, most likely partying early over the news that Lucifer would be returning soon. Alastair hummed to himself as he was buttoning up his crisp, light blue shirt, making Dean smile to himself. The humming had always calmed him, even when he was on the rack both as human and demon, since it meant Alastair was pleased and entertained.   
The master walked up behind his pet again, kissing the back of his head lightly and placing his hands on Dean’s hips.  
“Let’s get going. We have a lot of preparation to do.” 

The week passed quickly and Dean had gathered three under-demons to work for him full time top side. They would guard and torture the victims until Dean would take over - tender meat was the best, he’d proclaimed to them. Dean’s station was the largest, with about fifty guards and top-notch sigils for all kinds of distractions. The angels had, of course, heard about the plans but had so far not been successful with finding the lost tablet either. It was going to be a race and Dean was committed to make Hell come in first place.  
As he readied to leave with his team, Alastair met up with him a final time at Crowley’s office building. The master cupped his apprentice’s face gently, turning his eyes white and nodding with a smile to his face.  
“M’boy’s all grown up,” he said, cocking his head slightly to right. “do me proud up there.”  
Dean nodded back assertively, “Of course. I won’t fail you.” 

Alastair pulled Dean’s face close and kissed his forehead gently, letting his grasp go after his lips parted from the warm skin and took a step backwards. The men nodded at each other and Dean turned to walk with the team into a room nearby. 

Demons of all kinds were frantically blocking out windows and moving around destroyed furniture and piles of bricks, obviously not prepared for Dean and his squad to come now. This infuriated Dean, setting himself in the mind of Alastair and puffed up his chest slightly as he walked through the large room.   
“What is this crap, you idiots” he shouted, knocking over a chair in front of him. “You fucking knew we were coming and you don’t even have the guard sigils up completely? What is this bullshit?! If anyone comes, they come for me, and YOUR heads will be rolling in that case!”   
The other demons held their heads down as they still tried to move everything around and paint the final sigils, some muttering apologies under their breaths and others trying to explain. Dean would have none of it and ordered them harshly throughout the next few hours to get everything in shape.

The building was a giant old abandoned storing facility with makeshift rooms made of plastic veils. Dean, as the only one, had a room in the far back which was heavily guarded. It functioned as his office and main interrogation room for the people he considered important intel. Behind a lot of the makeshift plastic walls were cross racks and tables standing ready with weapons, almost clinically clean, prepared for the first victims to come by.   
Dean had told the demons working under him that they had to clean up after themselves, a standard he had gotten from Alastair’s training - they wouldn’t want the victims to die due to infections or the likes.

A few days passed and the racks were already filled, Dean’s underlings working hard to sift through those who actually held information and those who were collateral damage. Those who died early on the rack - who didn’t carry information, of course - were quickly harvested and their souls sent down to Hell to be broken there, potentially later joining the topside army. Nothing was being wasted, as the demon teams drained the blood from the dead bodies. So far Dean had not had anyone to carve and felt perfectly fine with it. He toured the facility constantly, taking his role as “Prime” up top very seriously. 

Two weeks in and still no lead on the tablet, at least not in Dean’s camp, but had there been anywhere else they would’ve heard. Crowley had been up and seen how everything was looking under Dean’s care and was pleasantly surprised, noticing key traits Dean had picked up from Alastair in terms of conditions but also attitude. Dean hardly wore his jacket anymore and had swapped out ragged jeans with black, clean ones. He still wore lumberjack shirts and t-shirts underneath but kept them clean and tidy, muscular underarms always protruding from the folded up shirts. So far it had been slow and Dean had spent some time following the cross-roads demons in the area make deals - not interfering, only observing. One particular case sent him back to the same crossroads where he had made a deal himself a long while back, and once the demon left with the deal sealed Dean trotted out on the crossroads, lifting his head to the sky to see the same starry night as he had the last time he had been there.

For a little bit he felt uneasy knowing there was no security around him, but so far there had been no reports of attempts of taking him back from hell or even Angel talk anywhere, even though Crowley had mentioned it before the big meeting. A team of demons had run into Sam and a small group of hunters in Washington but no casualties from either side. Obviously they were preparing - Dean remembered, somewhat, the process of all their fights against Hell and Heaven alike.   
He sat down again on the same rock as he had before, relaxing his back a little and dropping his head a bit, closing his eyes and brushing both hands through the back of his hair. He took a deep breath and lifted his head again, to see Castiel standing at the edge of the road across from him.

“We gotta stop meeting like this”, the demon said with a smile on his lips, not causing any reaction from the angel. Dean shrugged it off and sat back up a little more, not feeling threatened from Cas’ presence. 

“No, but, seriously. We have to stop meeting.” Dean continued, a more serious tone to him now, still not causing Cas to respond, heck even move. Dean cocked his head to the side, blinking a little, bringing his eyes from black to green - a color they hadn’t been since he left Hell.  
“I shouldn’t have come,” Castiel muttered, finally moving but in a tense motion, turning himself away from Dean, hands deep in his pockets.  
“Well that’s too damn late now, isn’t it.”  
Dean got up from the rock and slowly trotted towards Castiel, arms swinging slightly with every step. Cas stopped moving as he heard the gravel getting stepped on, head away and facing down towards the ground.  
“What’s the matter Cas? I won’t hurt you if you won’t hurt me.” 

And he didn’t want to - for some reason, this angel still didn’t make his stomach turn and twist with disgust. He had no issue being in the presence of Cas whatsoever, even at such a crucial time as this where most were probably out to get Dean’s head on a pike.

“Why are you doing this, Dean?” Cas said lowly, still not turning to look at the demon close to him.  
“Why won’t you leave everything as is? Things were fine up here, I told you. We don’t need another apocalypse.”   
“Whoa now! It’s not my plan. I’m just here for the ride.” Dean said, lifting his hands in a defensive motion, shaking his head with a slight smile. He hadn’t considered how much it actually harmed the angel to see the once before righteous man so far from what he had been before. 

Cas shook his head in disgust, clearly frustrated. Dean could tell that the time as human had impacted the angel’s way of moving and reacting, clearly less of a tight-ass dick as he had been previously.   
“Look, Cas… They have their intentions. You guys have yours. It’s the way it’s always been. I’m just a pawn in the whole thing.”  
“...You really are gone, aren’t you.” Deep, blue eyes turned back to the Demon, clearly upset and almost lost looking. “I had hoped that.. tiny shred of humanity I sensed in you still were there, somewhere. Guess I was wrong.”

As the word humanity dropped, Dean felt a kick in his gut. The gaping, strange feeling he had encountered a few times now came back but in full flourish, feeling almost all consuming. The pain lasted for a brief moment and he could almost feel how the demon part of him started packing the feeling back in it’s box - obviously, it wasn’t gone completely. The kick had pulled the black eyes out of the demon again and Cas could tell there was a reaction but didn’t want to act upon it - he didn’t want to get his hopes up at this point.

“I, uuh…” Dean grunted, clasping at his stomach with one of his hands, moving his head a bit frantically from left to right, trying to find something else to talk about.  
“Don’t, Dean. It’s fine.” The angel’s expression softened a little.  
“So.. tell me Cas,” Dean mumbled, trying to find his footing again, circling a bit around the angel, “what’s the counter plan to our little expedition? So far no-one has tried to get rid of me… or any of the other camps.”  
“Like I’d tell you.” Cas said firmly but with a heartwarming smile to his face. Dean felt the pit pulling at him again, not really wanting to look at Cas for much longer since the pit just started to churn in him.   
“No but.. like I said. I’m no-one important”, he lied blatantly, “they won’t believe me anyway if I had any sort of lead about anything.”   
“Dean - regardless of your position, I don’t think it would be wise of me to.. ‘spill my guts’ about these things.” the angel responded, clearly not willing to jump on Dean’s bait.   
“Well, if anything I had to try, right?”

The all too familiar grin appeared on Dean’s face. To Castiel, however, the charm of the grin and glinting eyes were ruined by just that - the dark, black eyes.   
A little while passed and no words were said between them. Dean circled the same little area as he had the past five minutes and swung his arms in that very typical impatient way he had done forever. Cas stood still, eyes observing the demon, unsure whether or not he should stay or leave. Finally Dean broke the silence, clearing his throat, pulling his dark eyes within and lifting his head up towards the angel, locking eyes for a moment.

“Do you, you know.. Want to chat about anything else than possible impending doom? ‘Cause I’m up for that.”  
Cas’ eyebrows furrowed a bit, not quite sure why the demon would even want to chit chat so casually. He tilted his head to the side slightly, putting his hands into his pockets.  
“Why?”  
“Look, honestly, I just want to spend some time away from my little shuttle. I’ve been tagging along to deals since I came topside, I can’t stand being in one place for too long. I think it’s a side effect from travelling so much when I was… well. Human.” 

Dean himself was taken aback by his own honesty and remembered the gaping chasm in his chest still pulling at him. What was this crap, why did Cas make him feel like this? Silently Dean blamed and cursed the deep, blue eyes again.   
“Aren’t you afraid someone will come capture you eventually?” Cas asked lowly, turning a little to face Dean who was still a bit impatient in his movement.  
“Pah. I’d like to see them try.”   
Another grin got painted on his face and Cas relaxed a little. He nodded silently at Dean and walked to a worn wooden bench that was almost hidden by grass on the side of the crossroads. He sat down with a relaxed sigh and looked up towards the sky in silence. Dean moved to the bench as Cas sat down, cracking his neck on the way nonchalantly and sat on the other end of the bench. He looked up as well and felt the chasm not pull at him so violently right now, although it was not completely gone. 

“What would you like to talk about then, Dean?” Cas asked, still looking up at the dark night sky.  
“Want to hear a joke?” Dean responded, looking down and over to Cas’ face.  
“Sure.” the angel responded with a slight smile.

“A demon and an angel walks into a bar…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ Alright guys, a little bit of an announcement! _
> 
> _First off I hope you've all enjoyed the story so far, it's honestly been great to be back and writing like this, the story is fun and interesting to write as well. Secondly, the whole thing will be on a little hiatus for like 2 weeks since I am leaving for vacation and will be gone for at least a week. I'll get back to posting once I have another 3-4 chapters ready and then post with a few days interval as before._
> 
> _Thanks again for reading! Any comments, kudos, critiques - all is loved and appreciated! Have a great summer._


	10. Mindgames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long while of working hard for nothing, Dean gets ready for a special night with his master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again guys!
> 
> Alright this chapter is SUPER long. I could not stop writing on it, so I hope you all enjoy it. Hopefully I will have the next chapter ready within 2 days as promised earlier, now the story will start to kick off with a lot of power.   
> Enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think and I will be back with more soon!

Bloody screams and gargles echoed through the hall, some deep and some shrill. The chilling sound of sharp metal against soft skin could be heard as well, followed by shouting, crying and pleads for help. Heavy footsteps filled the remaining air which was not full of pain and suffering, acting as a calm counterpart to the chaos that filled every inch of the place. The active Prime, Dean Winchester, walked with certainty between the heavy streams of blood, broken teeth and pieces of guts that streamed steadily between the plastic-sheets.   
For months now, absolutely nothing had been found on the tablet. All resources were running dry, no leads were given up and it had come to the point where even Crowley questioned whether or not the damn tablet actually existed. No word had come from the crossroad deals either, even though they had tripled their deals since the mission had started almost half a year ago.   
There had also been very few encounters with hunters, leaving Dean a little worried for some reason. What were they planning? How could there be such dead silence from them - usually someone would have been caught in the net, or even seek out some of the settlements around the states to stop what was going on. Nothing had happened, however. The whole ordeal almost seemed stupid, pointless and a waste of energy for both sides at this point, Dean thought. 

Today was important for Dean though. Even though there had been no intel for a long time, Alastair had announced he would be coming topside to check on things. Dean knew what he’d want to be checking, and it wasn’t the victims, the blood bank or the guts smearing everything around this place. Even though Dean had been very strict about cleaning up, the amount of bodies they had been worked on the last months had been so massive it had been hard to clean up completely. All the tools and racks were carefully cleaned however, as it was still important to avoid infecting the new victims. Everyone on the racks had died regardless, but orders were orders, and Dean would not accept unclean tools to be pushed into new people.   
Dean had prepared his office to be clean, “fun” and orderly for Alastair’s arrival. All kinds of new, shiny weapons, leather straps and some whips had been placed, neatly, on a large silver table next to Dean’s old rack from Hell he had gotten sent up a bit earlier. He walked around, anxious but excited, assertive footsteps hitting hard on the floor, filling the air with anticipation.

Evening came and the bodies had been removed, the demons were gathered in the opposite end of the hall to where Dean’s office is, sitting around a little barrel filled with fire, laughing and drinking. Dean had allowed them a night off, seeing as he would be busy himself, and let his minions enjoy themselves.  
He stood outside the walls of his office, taking a swig of a beer, observing the little pack in the distance. He started thinking about how he’d gotten here to begin with, remembering the pain from Metatron stabbing him deep and thorough, seeing the face of his brother smeared with pain and tears, and then the excruciating feeling of how his soul twisted inside of him, bending, breaking and bleeding until finally there was nothing - nothing but darkness. The deep blue angel eyes had vanished from him then and had sunk into the darkness, nothing left but that empty feeling until chaos came not long after.

Dean wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue and let his eyes drop to the bottle in his hand, letting go a bit of the memories and taking another swig, looking back up and around the hall. So far no sign of Alastair and night was approaching fast. Dean started thinking if this was one of those times again, like in Hell, where Alastair had promised himself to Dean but would never show - was he being toyed with? Didn’t Alastair feel like he had control over Dean again?  
As his eyes started to flicker between the bottle and his shoes, the air around him started to feel warmer and heavier. He looked to his left slightly, to see if something were to come swinging around the corner nearby. The heavy air almost blocked out the sound of the grinning demons in the distance, making Dean choke a bit on the air up here, reminding him of the sulfur-filled thick air in Hell after he’d been topside the first time.

“Hello Dean.”

The air was almost scorching now, a heavy breath on the back of Dean’s neck made him feel like his skin was bubbling. He clenched his hand around the bottle, slowly turning his face back towards his right side. Standing only a few inches from him was his master; clean, dark and tall, blue eyes piercing through Dean with a smirk painted across of his gruff face.  
Dean’s jaw dropped a little as his forehead almost met the tip of his master’s nose, looking up to meet his master’s gaze. He let out a sigh and blinked a few times, feeling both scared but ever so excited and a surge of lust ran through him out to the tips of his fingers.

“Alastair,” he gruffed, closing his eyes and tried to lean in to his master who retorted by grabbing Dean’s neck and squeezing it tight.   
“Miss me, boy?” Alastair hissed and pushed Dean out a little from him, looking up and down his prized apprentice, licking his lips and playfully lifting his left eyebrow. Dean tried to nod in the grip of his master, eyes still closed and arms hanging loose by his sides. The tall man leaned in and bumped his forehead against his pet’s, finally loosening his grip and letting a heavy hand drop on the shoulder in front of him.   
“Let’s get started, shall we?”

Dean took a gasp of air as soon as he could and looked up to meet Alastair’s eyes, nodding after the sentence finished and took a step backwards, turning on his heel and opening the door into the, thankfully, cold office room. The walls were gray and beat up, the floor cold, hard concrete. In the left corner of the little room was the rack - wood flossed and raw, old blood still smeared deep into it, leather straps worn out but still tough. To the left of the rack was the large table Dean had prepared, shining in the harsh white light - blades, razors, salt, holy water, needles and even a few larger weapons. As Alastair followed his pet into the room, he smiled with glee and let out a deep but low chuckle. He closed the door behind him and locked it, stopping for a moment to enjoy the sight of Dean, the rack and the toys - just like old times.

Dean walked over next to the rack and turned around, leaning his back on it and crossed his arms across his chest, beer still in hand, cocking his head playfully to his side and smirking at Alastair. He took a final swig of the beer and put it next to his feet, getting back into position and still smiling almost with pride. Alastair walked, slowly, towards his pet and let his gaze wander up and down the man in front of him. 

“You’ve done well, boy. And you look well too.”  
“Gotta stay fit and right for you,” Dean said calmly, blinking and letting out his black eyes.   
“Hmm, yes…” Alastair hummed, moving towards the table slightly, running his fingers over the handles of some of the sharpened blades Dean had left for him.

“Undress for me.”   
Reminding him of their first intimate night back in Hell, Dean nodded at his master and started slowly, unbuttoning his shirt very gently from the top to the bottom, eyes locked on Alastair still. The master poured a glass of holy water in a grail, grabbing it and moving towards Dean again, stopping about a foot away and dropped his weight on his right hip, white eyes appearing and almost glowing with anticipation. Dean slipped off the shirt and threw it on the ground in front of him, moving to remove his belt next. The metal made a hollow noise as it got opened and Dean quickly removed the belt with no problem. The next item was his t-shirt. He made sure to lift it off slowly, crossing his arms over himself as he lifted, exposing a smooth, strong stomach and tight pecs. As he threw the T-shirt Alastair moved in completely, grail in one hand and let his free hand brush the skin of Dean’s chest gently, down over his pet’s left arm. Alastair tilted his head slightly to the right, keeping eye contact and lifting the grail over Dean’s chest, starting to tip it. Dean knew the warm-up would be painful and long, but he accepted and didn’t break the eye contact as a steady, small stream of holy water burned from the top of his shoulder to the edge of his pants, scorching the skin. He gritted his teeth but tried to keep silent, clenching his fists as the burn got deeper and deeper, almost branding him.

The last drop fell from the grail and Alastair’s smiled faded slightly, throwing the cup ruthlessly behind him, the sound of the metal echoing in the room that otherwise was silent.   
“I always forget how… bland reality is.” he hummed, turning on his heel to go back to the table and find another toy. He was getting bored with Dean’s slowness though and with a swift snap of his fingers he pulled his pet on the rack, straps tightening a bit too tight and the rough wood already started to scrape Dean’s shoulders as he moved around a bit, forgetting how extremely powerful this Prime demon was.

“I hope you’re up for the challenge, m’boy” Alastair said lowly, grabbing a rather short knife, holding it up in front of his face and running a finger across the blade, cutting the skin slightly. He turned back towards Dean and moved as close as he could, licking at the edge of the wound from the holy water burning on top of Dean’s chest. Dean hissed at the sensation and wiggled around on his constraints, staring down at the master as he slowly licked up and down the narrow burn wound until finally stopping at the nipple and biting it tenderly. Alastair stood back up and rested his free hand on a part of the rack in front of him, lifting the small blade up to Dean’s face, almost touching the tip of the pet’s nose with it, smile broad across his face.   
“Let’s see if you still taste as delicious as you did in Hell…” he hummed and let the blade fall a bit, Dean’s eyes following it as it moved from his cheek and down towards his neck. The blade hit skin on it’s way down and it left tiny cuts making little droplets of blood starting to form slowly. Once the blade reached it’s destination by his jawline, Alastair moved his free hand onto Dean’s warm stomach and brushed it gently. Without warning he sliced a deep cut into Dean’s neck, a few inches long and the blood started pouring immediately. Dean let out a loud gasp and started breathing quickly, feeling the thick stream of blood pouring down him and soaking the edge of his pants, running down the skin inside as well. Alastair stepped back a little, letting the blood flow for a good minute before, with a deep groan, moving in on the gash and starting to drinking intensely, gulping down the thick blood with grunts and moans in between his slurps. Dean loved the sensation and Alastair knew it, and as the master kept gulping up and smearing his face with the red fluid Dean melted and moaned deep, feeling his pants tightening and his muscles playing on the sensation. He curled his toes and fingers, eyes closing and between moans his tongue came out to play on his lips, feeling a thirst himself. 

Alastair finished his drinking and removed himself, face almost completely smeared, stepping back, tripping over his own steps and fully pumped on the taste, feeling and power he drained from his apprentice. Dean was hanging more sluggishly but still moaning under his breath, the blood flowing less and less with every second, leaving the vessel almost gray now from all the blood that had been drained. 

“Absolutely… delicious….” Alastair said almost without a breath. He moved to the table to get some footing and dropped the bloody knife in the middle of everything, staining some of the other blades with the fresh blood.   
“Keep… keep going-” Dean pleaded with almost no air, head hanging heavy and eyes closed but a small smile on his face. The master saw and smiled back, grabbing a larger blade and walking swiftly back close to his pet. Without hesitation he started slicing superficial cuts across Dean’s chest, stomach and arms, letting blood flow slowly out of the cuts, slowly covering Dean’s body with thick, red blood. Every so often Alastair would cut deeper, forcing Dean to gasp and moan in pain and pleasure. The top half of Dean’s pants were completely soaked and hung heavy on him, the shape of his hard dick clear under them. Alastair stopped his carving and started kissing and biting the neck of his pet, hands grasping everything in front of him and finally letting a hand travel down into the soaked pants, down to the throbbing manhood underneath and grasped it tight and passionately. As the hand reached him, Dean moaned deep again and his eyes sprung open, now green and glinting, tongue still reaching out every so often to wet his lips and indicate his own thirst for blood.

“I want… I want some t-too,” he stuttered, eyes trying to find something to focus on but his vision was so blurry all he could see was shapes and the bright light over him. Alastair stopped his kisses and moved his face in front of Dean, quickly kissing his pet and letting his tongue play with his pet’s, sharing some blood but obviously not enough to quench Dean’s thirst. After a few minutes of rubbing and kissing, Alastair took his hand back to himself and lifted it up to Dean’s face, taking the blade to his wrist and slicing a long and deep cut in it. As the blood started pouring he forced it up at Dean’s mouth, and the apprentice started drinking with joy, lapping every drop to him as good as he could. The thick stream was overflowing and deciding not to let any go to waste, Alastair moved in on the edge of Dean’s mouth under his own forearm and started licking up the blood that could not be contained in his pet’s mouth. Dean suckled long and hard on the gash, almost not aware of Alastair so close to him, only focusing on the taste of iron and how his throat and stomach filled with it, feeling empowered by the Prime’s blood. 

After a good while the Prime removed himself and open wound from Dean and stepped backwards into the middle of the room, observing the, almost, completely blood-covered man in front of him. Alastair licked his lips, finishing off a trail in the corner of his mouth and slowly started unbuttoning his shirt, throwing it behind him. Dean still hung very weak on the rack but lifted his head to see his master undressing slowly. 

“Now, I can’t get much fun out of you if you’re hanging up there, hm?…” Alastair hummed lowly as he walked back to the table another time, this time sitting on the edge of it after removing his belt. He collected the ends in his right hand and swiftly snapped the tight, brown leather belt together, making Dean jump in his constraints at the sound.  
“Get your pretty ass down, m’boy,” Alastair said, and with another snap of the belt Dean was thrown from his constraints and onto his hands and knees on the ground, almost falling from the force. He grunted as he hit the floor, some blood dripping from his still open wounds to the floor like light red rain. After catching his breath a little, Dean looked up to his right to barely see the silhouette in the bright light over him. Alastair moved right next to Dean’s side, belt firmly in one hand, and with the other grabbed the brunette’s hair ruthlessly, pulling him up to stand upright on his knees. Dean gasped and moaned, grabbing up after the hand holding him in position, not really fighting the grip but played along, fighting it and moving around slightly, smearing wet blood from his pants on the floor underneath him. 

“You’re such a pretty boy, aren’t you…” Alastair growled, swinging the belt slightly and pulling Dean a bit around underneath him.  
“Yes,” Dean huffed back, still clawing at the arm over him. “Yes I am.”  
“Mmm yes…” the Prime hissed with a smile on his face. “I want to see that pretty face scream for me-”   
Before he could finish his sentence Alastair whipped Dean with the leather belt across his back so hard that the sound rung even outside the room, followed by a guttural roar from Dean who curled up over himself but Alastair would not let him, pulling him ruthlessly back up again and without hesitation whipped his pet again, just as hard and across those broad shoulders. Whip after whip, Alastair felt like he was painting a beautiful painting on the back of his apprentice, moaning and chuckling under his breath. Dean felt cold tears streaming from his eyes and he hardly had any voice left after a good minutes worth of whipping and screaming, muscles still reacting to every whip but he stopped fighting his master’s grip. 

“Yes! Yes, Dean! Open that pretty mouth!” Alastair yelled loudly, lifting his arm high and making a final, hard whip - one so hard it make the skin crack underneath it and Dean throwing out a huge cry, a steady stream of tears running down his face and mixing with the blood on it’s way, dropping little half-and-half drops on the ground underneath him.   
“Keep that mouth open, boy,” the Prime growled, dropping the belt and his grip of Dean’s hair, opening his pants and pulling out his hard cock, quickly moving in front of his pet. Before Dean could rest his back and slump down, Alastair grabbed him by the hair again and forced his pet’s mouth open with the other hand, forcing a few fingers down his throat and making Dean gag and cough. Dean looked up, still coughing, arms supporting him on his master’s legs, green eyes soaked in tears still. Alastair grabbed himself and guided him into Dean’s warm, open mouth, brushing the bottom of the head and shaft on the wet tongue underneath, being somewhat gentle compared to all the other times. The master moaned deep as he slid in and out slowly, one hand still tight in his pet’s hair, guiding him back and forth gently. 

“Close your mouth on it,” he hummed, and Dean obliged instantly, locking his lips over the length and tongue instinctively starting to wet the head and shaft within. Alastair continued moving with Dean’s head, throwing his own back in pleasure as he pushed deep into his pet’s throat and holding it for a moment, pulling back as he could sense Dean gagging hard. He didn’t give Dean much room to recover though, as he thrusted hard again and repeated, letting his pet gag on the length and cough as it got removed. Alastair proceeded with this, quicker and quicker, both thrusting himself harder forward and pulling Dean harder towards him, causing Dean to close his eyes and digging his fingernails into the legs in front of him, tears filling up in his eyes again. He could feel how Alastair was close to releasing, deciding not to think further but to still play with his tongue between his gagging. Sure enough, Alastair grabbed Dean’s head with both of his hands and with brute force pulling Dean all the way down on the shaft, filling his pet’s throat completely, moaning deep and hard as he released, filling Dean’s throat and mouth so fully it overflowed from the edges of his pet’s mouth. Once again Dean tried to think of something that tasted sweet; caramel. Summer strawberries. Vanilla ice cream. None of those flavours reached his palette however, only that gross, acid taste. He gagged on the length once more, and Alastair retracted with a gasp, letting go of his grip and Dean fell onto his hands again, coughing up cum and blood under him. His own excitement had faded since giving head was the least of his favorite acts, at least with Alastair. 

Alastair packed himself back up and reached down to grab his belt again, circling behind Dean who still was trying to catch his breath, slowly stopping his vomiting of blood and poison. The Prime now stood behind his pet, belt in hand as previously, and he walked in to spread Dean’s legs apart with his own. Once they were spread, Alastair slowly dropped on his knees, groin now on Dean’s backside, and with a swift movement he took the belt around Dean’s throat and choked him with it, pulling one end towards him as the other locked around his pet’s throat like a collar. As he pulled the end he grinded himself up against Dean who was struggling very hard to breathe now, eyes turning black and still watery, but this was exactly what he’d want. The pain, the lack of control - as long as he didn’t have to look at Alastair, if he could vanish into his own dream world from the pain he was being inflicted, all the sex in the world could feel amazing to Dean. He just wanted to be used.  
Alastair grinded and pulled, and with one hand he scratched the sore skin on Dean’s back with sharp fingernails, making Dean whimper underneath him. Alastair himself grunted with every thrust, sensing how Dean was getting turned on immensely, the whimpers getting more and more deep and turning into moans. The Prime stopped scratching his pet and decided to open up Dean’s pants, pushing them down and continued to grind the now naked Dean with his own jeans still on. Dean was fully erect, eyes closed with pleasure now instead of pain and fear and was close to reaching climax, not even being touched, just dominated completely. Alastair returned to scratching the sore skin, drawing blood now.

“Y-yes, yes!” Dean moaned, “Please, yes, yes yes!”, being on the extreme edge of releasing.  
“Ah-Alastair!” he shouted, and as he did Alastair stopped the scratching, dropped his grip of the belt and stood up almost instantly. Dean, still in crazy ecstasy, looked up with a distraught face at his Prime whom started to dress himself again quickly, not looking down at his apprentice at any time.

“Whe-where are you going? Alastair? What’s-”, Dean gasped and moaned, clearly confused.  
“I’ve got an appointment with the other apprentice.”

In an instant, Alastair was gone. The air was starting to become cold as ice and Dean still stood there, on all fours, belt around his neck, blood underneath him and his dick still hard and throbbing. The despair quickly turned to anger, and after looking around and underneath him he roared with such a force that the blades on the table shook.

“Son of a bitch!”, he said, crawling up on his knees and finally standing up, pulling up his pants and walking over to the table.  
“Son.. of a fucking bitch! Alastair!! You cheating bitch!”   
He flipped the table with such a rage that he easily could have broken it if he wanted, blades and toys flying all over the room, making a lot of sound as they hit the walls and floors.

“I’ll fucking teach you, Alastair. I will. I was yours and you were mine! No one elses!”  
He went to grab his t-shirt from the ground, seeing it soaked in blood completely but took it on anyway, staring at the rack afterwards.  
“You wanna cheat, huh? I can fucking cheat too, you white-eyed whore. I know exactly who I want. And I swear I'll piss you so much off...” 

He punched the rack so hard it left a dent in it, shards of wood stuck in his knuckles but he didn’t care the slightest. He was pissed, full of lust and anger, and he knew exactly who he wanted to spend all that energy on. In that instant he burned away the memory of Alastair’s icy blue eyes in favor of deep, ocean ones.


	11. For what it’s worth…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally a lead about the tablet, but chances are that the Prime topside won't get his chance at carving out the information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ok Ok I can't NOT post the next chapter. Feeling very inspired and pumped out two long chapters today, so here, have the next part!_

“Let me go you black eyed bitches! Let me go right now!”, a woman shouted, voice ricocheting through the big hall, making all demons turn their heads and walk towards the open gate. In between two goon-demons, a young woman was constrained, fighting their grip as much as she could.  
“I swear I’ll kill every single last one of y-”

The woman stopped in her sentence as soon as she was met with the Prime of the place. Her eyes grew wide and filled with fear, her arms stopped fighting the hard grips on them and her legs stopped kicking. She recognized the face of the rugged man in front of her, those broad shoulders once protecting her, those bruised hands once saving her from imminent death. Now, the man stood on the other side, being the one who most likely would take her life.  
“Dean.. Is it true?” she said, voice shaking in disbelief.  
“Sure is, sweetheart. Welcome to our little casa.”

Dean walked confidently, chin raised high and arms swinging by his sides as he moved closer to the hunter he once knew in front of him. All other demons had gathered around her now and formed a circle, closing it as Dean was a few feet away from her. Everyone stood in silence and the hunter shook her head.  
“Don’t talk to me like that, you filthy black-eyed bitch!” she snorted and spat, hitting Dean’s shirt. He looked down at the spit and shook his head, lifting his head back up and cocking it to his right, making a “tsch” sound and crossing his arms in front of him.  
“That’s no way to say hi to an old friend now, is it?” he growled lowly, blinking and letting out his deep dark eyes, making her quiver with fear now. “In case no-one told you, this is my domain. I’m the boss here. And I get to have a long, lovely chat with you a bit later Chrissy. Ain’t you just excited?”  
“Can’t you tell? I’m bursting with anticipation” Chrissy responded with a good dose of sarcasm, starting to fight the grasps again and gritting her teeth.  
“I can’t believe you actually let yourself become this… thing, Dean. After everything you did. After all the times you fought against it.”  
“Yeah well,” he hummed, resting his weight on his left leg, “It is what it is. Can’t complain, I get all the fun I want - pretty women, lots of drinks, all sorts of crap. A way better life than I ever had before,” he said, knowing he was lying. The pit of humanity in his stomach curled and pained him as the said the words, still hurt deeply by Alastair’s betrayal. 

He kicked a bit in front of him and started to circle Chrissy, who again had stopped fighting as soon as the Prime started walking, watching him closely.  
“So, Chrissy,” he said lowly, “word on the street is that you’ve been protecting the new prophet and the tablet we need… That true?”  
“Fuck off, Dean.” she replied, snapping at him, losing sight of him as he got past her left side.  
“Uff, Chrissy darlin’,” Dean said, shaking his head slowly, still circling the hunter, “I can tell we’re gonna have so much fun together..”  
Dean had moved behind Chrissy now, nose hitting the back of her head and digging into her light brown hair, taking his hands to rest on her hips. As she felt his hands get planted she tried to wrestle it but Dean simply held her down, grip so strong and assertive on her she didn’t dare to try and kick backwards in case he’d harm her. 

“You were always so feisty. I liked that.”  
“You were always such an arrogant prick,” she tried to reply, but the Prime didn’t seem to listen to her. “I remember how sweet you smelled, even when you were so scared of that ghoul. You smelled like… candy.”  
He kept talking, brushing his hands up and down her sides now, nose still in her hair. The other demons knew how Dean worked his victims and didn’t bat an eye, although a few in the crowd were getting restless and started mumbling that Dean should just kill her already. More and more demons started to talk and not long after they started shouting and kicking up a storm, clearly irritating Dean.

“Shut up, you idiots!”, he shouted back, turning his head to his right and eyeing a few of the demons on the sidelines, black eyes burning them. “She’ll die in due time. For now, she’s mine, so contain your boners will you?”  
Chrissy had completely stopped fighting now, hanging her head towards the ground and trying to not to hyperventilate. There was no way she would make it out of this alive, and if Dean was in any way as good of a demon as he was a hunter, she’d be gone in no time. 

“Bring her to my room, boys. We’re gonna have a great time.”

The crowd started to disperse as Dean shouted at them to get back to work, Chrissy being pulled almost lifelessly towards the room in the back. Dean nodded in approval - finally, something was happening with this case, something that could take his mind off of Alastair and how angry he was with him. The big gates closed behind him and Dean started walking towards the room, looking down to dry off the speck of blood and spit Chrissy had spat on him earlier. She was put inside the room and thrown up on Dean’s old rack by the goons who left short after, leaving the door open. As Dean thanked them and was about to walk to the door himself, the air started boiling like it had about a month ago now, and sure enough - Alastair appeared from the doorway.

“Hello, Dean. It’s good to see you again.” The tall man said as he leaned onto the door, arms crossed over a crisp, clean blue shirt once more. He had a cold smile on his face and icy blue eyes looking soothingly at Dean, who clenched his fists tight at the sight.  
“Alastair. What the hell are you doing here?” Dean growled, eyes glowing in anger. He’d not forgiven Alastair the slightest.  
“Now now my boy, why’re you so mad? I thought you’d be happy to see me again.” 

Alastair obviously knew how mad Dean was but didn’t care the slightest. He was gonna come there on his terms, and Dean already knew why the Prime was there - he was going to take over the interrogation, even though this was exactly why Dean had been put up there in the first place.  
“Can’t say I am, no.” Dean said lifting his head, chin up and eyes still locked on his master.  
“Hmm, disappointing. Thought we were going to have some fun tonight after I’m done with this girl, but obviously not.”  
Dean’s heart dropped a little but he still grit his teeth and shook his head slightly.  
“I thought you were busy with your other bitch,” he growled, “so go to him and get your kicks.”  
“Oh Dean my sweetheart,” Alastair hummed, moving from his position and moving in on Dean, cupping the little brunette’s head gently. Dean was frozen in fear and anger, brows furrowed deep. “I thought we were okay with sharing.”  
“I wasn’t.” Dean answered quick and cold, making Alastair tilt his head slightly and the smile vanished a little. Alastair brushed his thumbs over his pet’s cheeks, pulling himself closer and instinctively Dean’s body relaxed a bit - not because he wanted to, but it felt natural to do so in this case. 

“Well, I was. And what I say, goes. Except I won’t share you with anyone, of course. That’s a given. No-one else would want you, anyway. Too angsty.”  
Dean closed his eyes and his fists stopped clenching so hard together. He dropped his head a little, feeling the pit in his stomach twist and hurt him. Alastair sure knew how to keep him down, the demon thought to himself.  
“Now, go play somewhere else. It’s time for the adult to work.” Alastair said and pushed away Dean harshly, making him almost stumble over his own feet.  
“She’s mine, Alastair. This is why I’m up here, right? I was meant to-”  
“You’re not skilled enough, Grasshopper.”  
“What?! The hell are you talking about? You’re the one who sent me here for it!”  
“Ssh, pet. You’d kill her too quick. Can’t have that.”  
“Piss off Alastair, let me do my job god damnit!” Dean shouted now, the demons around them again reacting to the sound and slowly moving closer to listen to the argument that was starting.

This did not please Alastair the slightest and he almost grew taller, much like other times Dean had defied him. He lifted his head slightly and turned his eyes white and cold, still scorching the air around him however. Chrissy observed what she could from the room but all she could see was the bulking back of Alastair and listen to how Dean sounded. As the Prime left the room completely, all she could do was listen, and even though Dean was a demon she felt somewhat worried for what was to come for him.

“I thought you knew not to talk back to me like that, boy.” Alastair growled.  
“I don’t care.” Dean muttered, clenching his fists tight again, wanting to run away but on the other hand he wanted to fight Alastair, show him how angry he really made him. “I. Don’t. Care.”  
Dean stood up tall and straight, lifting an eyebrow and puffed up his chest. He was ready for a big showdown, even if it meant he’d be thrown back on a rack - he wanted Alastair to suffer for once.  
“You… don’t care?” Alastair hummed, moving slowly towards his apprentice, hands relaxed by his side. He clearly didn’t fear his pet and this infuriated Dean even more.  
“Exactly. I don’t care. She’s my witness, I’m meant to get the information, not you.”  
“Well, m’boy,” Alastair growled and with a quick movement he held Dean by the throat, tossing him to the wall next to them, lifting him a good foot over the ground and pressing hard against the soft throat in front of him. “Change of plans. You’re useless, really. All the skills I taught you, all the tips and tricks - you’ve forgotten them all, Dean. You’ve grown soft and weak up here. I’m ashamed to still call you my apprentice.” 

Dean was trying to fight off the Prime but couldn’t, nails digging into skin, legs trying to kick but hitting nothing. Meanwhile his heart broke once more, the pit inside of him starting to fill him with horrible thoughts; Worthless. Useless. Weak. Soft. Pointless. Disgusting. Despicable. A disappointment. Tears started to form in his eyes and when Alastair let him go he dropped to the ground hard, now lying on the cold ground feeling the air above him boil. Alastair left him without any more words, going in to the room and locking the door. It didn’t take long for screams to be heard from there and the demons started to move back to their posts once more. Dean was left on the ground, sobbing to himself, trying to not get seen like this but the sorrow had consumed him completely. He picked himself up after a while, drying off tears from his cheeks and vanishing shortly after, deciding he’d need some space from everything.

The ocean had always been kind of calming on Dean, even though he hardly spent time there when he was alive. He had a few memories of him driving, alone, to the coasts at night when Sam was asleep or when he was on a mission alone, just to get a moment’s rest. He’d bring beers and, sometimes, a pie from a gas station on the way and just let the sound of the waves take up all the space in his head, if anything just for that night.  
The demon sat, legs crossed in front of him, just listening to the waves gently crashing on the sand not far from him. He leaned back on his arms and let out a deep sigh, retracting his black eyes and looking down over himself. He really was a disappointment. He really was weak and worthless. He didn’t track down Chrissy, he didn’t even find out about the tablet being there in the first place - that was someone else. Dean had a suspicion that it was Alastair’s other apprentice that had been head of the group that found her, and to simply toy with Dean Alastair had ordered Chrissy sent to his establishment. Dean clenched his jaw and fought more tears, the gaping pit almost hindering his breath. He remembered how he told Crowley the first day back that he was glad he was free of all the emotions, the guilt, the sadness. Now it was back in full effect. His humanity was not gone, instead it grew steady within him every time Alastair tried to assert dominance… And it worked. But instead of becoming more submissive, Dean wanted away - he felt so tired of always being wrong, always being worthless no matter if he was alive or dead. 

The sound of wings flapping could be heard between a wave hitting the sand once more and Dean felt a familiar presence next to him. He looked to his left to see those familiar deep, blue eyes and a worried face.  
“A penny for your thoughts,” Castiel said as he got comfortable on the sand, mimicking Dean’s position and laying an invisible wing over the demon’s back to comfort him. Dean forced out a smile that quickly crumbled again and looked down into the sand under him, fiddling his fingers together as if trying to find words in the palm of his hands.  
“I don’t have a penny. But, it’s nothing Cas, really. I swear.” Dean lied, knowing he looked like a wreck. “I just needed some space.”  
“I can leave again if you want-”  
“No! No, please. Stay.” Dean interrupted the angel, who smiled at the quick reply from the demon. Cas turned his head to look out over the ocean where the sun was setting slowly, feeling the wind picking up. Dean turned his head the same way and pulled his knees up to him, resting his arms on them and putting his head on his forearms, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. Cas scooted a bit closer, their hips touching now and also pulled his knees up but instead of sitting up he dropped on his elbows and almost laid down on the dry sand. No words were being spoken, Cas just tucked his wing tight around the demon so he could feel he was being held. A good hour passed and they just sat there, Dean being comforted and Castiel thinking about how many fish were in the ocean right where they were. After a while, some small drops of warm tears hit the sand between Dean’s legs and Cas heard them separate from the cold skin on the man next to him. He turned his head and sat up again, placing his jaw on Dean’s shoulder, looking down at the dark hair.  
“Dean, you can tell me everything, you know. It does not matter that you’re a demon and basically evil,” Dean opened his eyes and lifted his head a little, turning towards Cas and looking up at the extremely blunt, awkward angel, “I still care about you and I want you to be well. And you are not well right now.”

Dean smiled a real smile this time and turned his head a little more, letting the edge of his lips appear over his arm, making Castiel smile a little too.  
“You’re so dumb, you know that, right Cas?” Dean said with a chuckle, blinking gently and making a last tear fall down his cheek.  
“I’m highly intelligent Dean.”  
“Just not very people-smart. But that’s the charm I guess…” 

“Really, though. I’m fine. I just needed to get away from… All the stress.”  
Cas nodded, still jaw on the demon’s shoulder, looking into the green eyes with calm.  
Dean lifted his head completely now, still turned towards Castiel and their noses quickly brushed each other, causing them both to look down. Dean’s eyes locked on the soft, big lips near him and felt like he wanted to dive in, opening his mouth slightly. It seemed Cas was as hypnotized by Dean and opened his mouth a little as well, leaning a little more forward. 

“Cas, I…” Dean almost whispered under his breath, looking back up to find the angel’s eyes that looked up as well, locking together. Dean leaned in a little more in, brushing his nose past Cas’, green eyes glinting and he started feeling like he was getting engulfed by the deep sea in the eyes in front of him.  
“For what it’s worth, I-” 

Suddenly Dean pulled back and eyes immediately went to black, the hairs rising on his arms and a giant knot was forming in his throat. A million voices started racing in his head and a last one finally chimed through; “I’m coming for you, Dean…”. The voice was Alastair, and it made Dean jump in his seat in the sand, crawling a bit to his right, away from the angel who removed his wing quickly when he sensed Dean heard something. 

“Dean, what’s wrong?”  
“I- I can’t stay Cas, it’s too dangerous for you-”

In an instant, the angel was left alone on the beach because Dean had vanished off to God knows where. Castiel could sense something was terribly wrong and was worried what was happening to the man he, still, shared such a special bond with. He vanished from the beach as well, bright green eyes locked in his memory - he’d find a way to save Dean once again.


	12. The Big Talk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastair finds Dean and brings him back to Hell for a serious conversation.

The door closed almost silently, Dean walking steadily to the familiar dinner table, seating himself in a back corner, looking up at the Prime who was heading to the tiny kitchen nearby. After his message had been sent to Dean, Alastair had found his apprentice somewhere in Milwaukee, where he had been sitting in a small bar getting drunk. He’d wasted a good day or two making Alastair find him and it wasn’t a smooth process for the Prime to drag Dean back to Hell once more. 

“Why’d you run, Dean?”   
Alastair started out with a very calm voice, pouring them both a glass of whisky with ice. He walked back to the table and put the glass in front of Dean before seating himself on the opposite side, kicking his feet up on the free chair next to him and using the wall as his back rest. Dean sat forward and took the drink between both of his hands, looking down into the dark drink before taking a small sip.  
“Guess I wanted to keep you entertained or something” he muttered, still a bit drunk from topside.   
“It didn’t work.”   
“Whatever.”

Alastair sighed and took a large sip of his drink, and as he put it back on the table he turned it on the tabletop with his fingers, rotating the clear glass and looking at it. Dean gulped the last down quickly and slammed the glass on the table, clearly to provoke a reaction but Alastair hardly moved. Dean stood up and walked to the kitchen, throwing off his jacket and shirt quickly, clearly not adjusting well to the heat down here.   
“Is the AC off or something,” he slurred as he walked over and found a cold beer in the fridge.  
“The AC was never on, you know. You’ve just been on the arctic so long.”  
“Whatever.” 

Dean took a huge gulp of the beer and burped loudly after it, this time making Alastair tilt his head a little and look up at the sweating brunette.  
“What’s gotten in to you, boy? Are you that bored up top you have to become feisty? I’m not saying I don’t like it, but-”  
“No, Alastair, but I have a real problem with you two-timing me.” Dean said bluntly, turning around to face his Master and shaking his head.  
“I thought I fucking mattered to you, man. Thought that I was worth something to you. Out of all the damn demons in this piece of hell-hole you picked me, you taught me not once but twice now, heck you fucked me blind I don’t even remember how many times-” he said, walking back to his seat and sitting down with a thud, “but still. Still I’m worth jack shit to you. So you just run off with some other deadbeat apprentice that I’ve never even seen. Ever. Is he hot? Is he like me? Is that your type, brunette, short and angsty, huh?”   
Alastair shook his head slightly with a smile on his face, “M’boy, I don’t have a type.”   
“Bullshit. That’s not what the other demons told me, anyway…” Dean muttered again, taking another large gulp of the beer and sitting back against the wall much like Alastair was.   
“Ahh, is that so?”  
“Yeah it’s so. Fucking hell…” 

For a while they sat in silence. Alastair barely touched his drink other than still rotating the glass in his hand and Dean finished the beer fairly quick.   
“Well I’m here now, and you’re here with me. So, obviously you matter to me Dean.” Alastair finally said, swinging his head slowly to his right to look at his drunk, angry little apprentice.  
“Yeah yeah whatever. You just want to make sure I don’t run off somewhere. That I don’t mess shit up like I always do.”  
“If that was the case then I’d just toss you on the rack, don’t you think?”  
“No, no because you don’t work like that anymore. WE don’t work like that anymore-” Dean shouted, slamming a flat hand onto his chest, clearly frustrated, “hell I don’t even know if there’s a we anymore. You said it yourself, you’re ashamed of me. Tired of me. Done with me.”  
“I never said that Dean.”  
“You did.”

Again the silence grew between them. Alastair blinked a little and stood up, drink in hand, walking over to the kitchen and after finishing his drink he refilled it. He bent down to the fridge and picked up another beer for Dean, and placed it in front of him as he sat down once more.   
“... thanks …” Dean whispered and took a sip of the new beer.  
“I know about your humanity, Dean.”  
Dean choked on his beer and the words Alastair just said, coughing and sitting a bit forward, putting the beer down and looking at the very calm face across the table from him.  
“I’m sorry, my what now?”  
“Stop acting like you don’t know, Dean. I know. I knew ever since that first time back on my rack.”  
“How’d you…”  
“Well. I’ll be honest with you and say I wasn’t completely sure up until the other day. But I had my suspicions.”  
“... Well crap.” Dean mumbled.

Alastair took a slow sip and still didn’t look at Dean, just the clear glass. He blinked a few times and Dean was trying to figure out what to say. He was still angry, but now feeling more afraid because he did not know what Alastair would do with him now.   
“Regardless. There are some things you should know.”   
Alastair sat forward and in over the table, face still on the drink. Dean tried to find his master’s eyes and clenched his jaw a little.  
“I do have a different apprentice. I had him before you, actually. We decided not to tell you about him because, hmn, well, I know you were very attached to me last time and I didn’t want jealousy in our… relationship.” The Prime took another sip of his drink and looked up with clear, cold blue eyes.   
“We thought you’d be crucial in releasing Lucifer again, we just didn’t know how. And now it turns out, you really aren’t.”

Dean slumped back into his chair, pulling his beer with him and looking down on the edge of the table. Of course he wasn’t. He truly was as useless dead as he was alive.  
“That doesn’t mean we didn’t have fun though. I mean, I did, anyway.” Alastair chortled, finishing his drink and sitting back in his chair as well.  
“But yeah, the other apprentice is just… better. Quicker. Smarter. Works every weapon well. Doesn’t have pointless rage, like you…”   
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time.”   
“Really, Dean. You tried. We tried. But you know, hm, you’re a good fuck, so… I like keeping you around.”  
“Is that really all I am to you?”  
“Basically. And I wasn’t lying when I said no one else wants you. I asked around. No one wants your little angsty noggin’. I do, though. I love hearing you plead and cry. You always like to play just as I do.” 

The humanity started pulling up all the hateful words again and making Dean’s stomach hurt deep. He had really, really tried. All he wanted was to impress and do good, but he failed extremely hard. He felt so upset he wanted to punch a wall and run out the door screaming but it wouldn’t matter. Alastair would find him and keep him for as long as he wanted.  
“So, what, am I not your apprentice anymore?”  
“Oh but of course, my boy. You’re not a bad torturer Dean, don’t get me wrong. But Rick-”  
“Rick?!”  
“Yes, Rick.”  
“You’re dumping me for some deadbeat called Rick? Christ Alastair couldn’t you at least pick someone with a sexier name?”  
“I’m not dumping you, Grasshopper-”  
“Shut your piehole Alastair, you are, you know it too.”  
“Dean.”

Alastair’s voice was loud and clear and it made Dean silent instantly, freezing in his seat.   
“Stop.” the master said, pointing a finger towards Dean’s face, “This is exactly why I can’t have you work on the girl upstairs. You get carried away so easily. Where’s the control I tried to teach you?”  
“-Then I don’t understand why I was sent there to begin with.”   
“Honestly I thought you would have worked more on your own Grasshopper, but as far as I know you haven’t cut into anyone for the good part of half a year now, is that true?”  
“... yes.” Dean muttered.  
“You didn’t do what you were supposed to do, then, my boy. The girl was very, very easy to find once Rick got a hold of another hunter. You’ve not even tried any hunters, have you?”  
“No.”  
“See?”   
“... You’re not my dad.” drunk Dean muttered under his breath and took a large swig of the beer. “You can’t tell me off like this.”  
“Oh but I can, m’boy. That’s kind of the point of being your Prime. Here to tell you when you do wrong. Guide you.”   
“Yeah well you’ve been doing a shit job just like my dad then so far!” Dean shouted, head still looking down and away. Alastair lifted an eyebrow and shook his head a little, taking a final sip of his drink.   
“So angry. So angsty.” The Prime muttered and got up from his chair once more, this time to get a cold beer for himself. 

“Look I’m real tired, can I please go to sleep?” Dean muttered, done with the conversation and done feeling like he was a simple piece of worthless meat to the man he’d spilled all his passion and energy on since his return. Alastair nodded, and as he did Dean got up from his seat quickly. He didn’t bother undressing and simply threw himself on his side of the bed on his stomach, letting out a deep sigh a little while after.  
“Alastair?”  
“Yes, m’boy?”  
“Have you, uh… Have you had Rick… here?”   
“Never. Cross my heart, Dean.”

Dean nodded on his pillow and curled his legs up a bit under him, staring into the wall a bit away from him. Even though he felt like a piece of shit, he still wanted to do good towards Alastair. He didn’t want to run or fight him, hell if the demon wanted to fuck him tonight he’d probably accept. He still lived to please and since Alastair was the only one that had seemed the slightest bit like he cared, he would just be what Alastair saw him as; someone he could toy with whenever he wanted, someone that would do whatever he wanted. That’s all he was good for anyway, Dean thought to himself, as he fell asleep. 

When he woke up the following morning, Alastair had tucked him in and the Prime was sleeping next to him, back turned towards his pet. The demon was breathing calmly and Dean tried to sit up without making too much noise. He ran both hands through his sweaty hair and decided to go take a shower, trying to tiptoe his way out there.   
This time he didn’t think about Alastair at all while he stood there though. He got lost in the dark blue eyes he had been staring into a few days prior, remembering the feeling of wanting to lean in on the pillowy lips and taste his angel. His angel. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that with Castiel he was at least always accepted, always safe. Cas always forgave Dean and returned to him, he always tried to prove to Dean that he was worth all the hassle, and boy was Dean a hassle. The water ran cold on the broad, muscular shoulders and Dean closed his eyes, imagining Cas in front and under him, wanting to kiss the bulking shoulders as he’d brush the sides and stomach of his angel, gently warming him up under the water…

“Dean?”   
The demon snapped out of his imagination and quickly back to reality, hearing the call from the bedroom.  
“Y-yes, Alastair, I’m still here. In the shower. Will be out in a min.”

Dean bit his bottom lip and swore he’d find Castiel again soon. He needed to see him, he needed to talk to and touch him.   
He walked back into the bedroom and saw Alastair sitting on the edge, fully dressed and looking out the window. Dean buttoned his shirt and went to go to the kitchen getting stopped halfway there as Alastair had stood up and grabbed Dean by the arm.

“You’re going back topside today, Dean, you know that, mh?” Alastair nodded at Dean, white eyes locked on his pet’s green ones that quickly turned black.  
“I know.”  
“Good. I still want you to be head of the expedition up there, but you must understand-”  
“No, I do. I’m not good enough to actually carve anyone.”  
Alastair nodded with a cold smile on his face. “We’ll pull you down here some time soon son, put some sense into your little noggin. Get you back on track.” He let Dean’s arm go and walked to the kitchen himself, putting over some coffee on an old coffee machine. Dean never understood why Alastair was the type of demon that had to physically make things or have things - like the coffee machine. Or the handcuffs. Even the drinks. Imagination was all it took, but Alastair was old fashioned when it came to these things, and maybe that’s why Dean used to enjoyed his company when they weren’t torturing. It felt familiar for some reason. The enjoyment had left him though and he just wanted to leave for good now, seeking someone elses company.

“Now, Dean,” Alastair hummed as the pet started walking to the door, “I can’t have you leaving without learning your lesson.”  
“My lesson?” Dean asked, and before he could turn his head to look at his master he was knocked on the ground by a forceful punch, followed by a few kicks to the stomach to knock the air out of him. Alastair proceeded to punch Dean ruthlessly, breaking his pet’s nose and drawing blood from his mouth and ears. Dean couldn’t even fight against it and after a while he laid there, silent and not even protecting himself any more.   
“You’re nothing without me Dean. Nothing. You degraded yourself to a sad, emotional sack of bones and all the potential you had - all the potential I found in you, you threw away. You are nothing, Dean Winchester. And I want you to remember that.”  
Dean nodded underneath his master, closing his eyes and trying to adjust his nose a little.  
“Say it!” Alastair shouted, spit landing on Dean’s face.  
“I’m n-nothing without you Alastair, m-master, sir.”   
“Good boy. Now, scram. We have business to do. I will see you upstairs later. You better keep that office clean and tidy.”

Dean nodded again and pulled himself up from the floor, sluggishly moving to the door and walking out of it, clearly groggy from the hits to his head. His humanity did as it had earlier - dug up all the worst, horrible feelings about himself and all the memories of failing his loved ones; his father, mother, Sam, Bobby, Jo, Lisa, Ben… Castiel. Each and everyone he had failed to keep safe, keep content and done his job. Alastair was right - he wasn’t worth anything on his own. He had to have someone to punch him in the right direction, someone to guide his foolish mind and weak hands. He’d come topside, still bleeding heavy from his ears and started cleaning the office where Chrissy still hung, barely alive. Dean paid no attention to her and just did as he was told, expecting his master to come back topside any time.


	13. Take Me Away From Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to strike a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are getting huge so I hope you guys are up for it! Basically everything is mapped out now and I suspect the end of this fic will be within 2 weeks. Maybe less. Enjoy!

“Good job, Deano. I will call for you later.”

Dean nodded with his head hanging low towards his Prime, arms hanging lifelessly by his sides, fresh bruises still sore and black blood dried, finally, on the sides of his face. Alastair walked over and gently patted Dean on the side his face, kissing his forehead very gently.  
“You’re a good boy, Dean. As long as you do as you’re told, you’re the best boy, my pretty, my favorite.”

This was old-Alastair speaking, shoving lies down Dean’s sore throat. The demon who broke Dean in Hell so many years ago, tearing him apart limb from limb but in body and in soul. Knowing Dean’s humanity was still there, Alastair could toy with him and break him as he did before, with harsh words followed by praisings - bend him just as he wanted. Dean did not look forward to what would happen after Chrissy was dead, because he was certain he would be on the rack next. He left the room quietly and shut the door behind him, eyes still hanging low. He knew Alastair would be busy for a good day and decided he’d do as he swore earlier that day - seek Castiel. Talk to him. Touch him. Kiss him. He needed something that was real, and nice - not this cruel kind of affection Alastair had towards him, even if it meant certain death if Alastair ever found out. 

He did a quick tour around the place, making sure the other demons were hard at work. Another few hunters had been brought to their establishment and were on the racks of his underlings. To them, he was still the highest authority - he didn’t feel that way, however. Once everything was settled, Dean slowly wandered outside and made sure he was alone so no one saw him leave. He tried to rub off some of the blood from his sides before vanishing, knowing very well he wouldn’t be the most presentable but, hey - it’s not like it was a date or anything.

The sun was baking and the air hardly moved on the familiar crossroad. Crickets were chirping all around the demon, a few birds flying by on the light blue, clear sky. He adjusted his old, rugged leather jacket that he had made sure to bring with him again. It almost felt like armor now, heavy and thick around his arms and sides. He rubbed his hands together slightly and looked up towards the sun, black eyes reflecting the shine, and he bit slightly in his lower lip before taking a deep breath.  
“Cas? Cas, I need you here.”

A good hour passed and Dean had called out multiple times, no luck. He’d sat himself on the bench he and the angel sat on so long ago now, looking over the corn and wheat fields around him. Some wind had finally started to come by and he observed the crops as they swayed so silently in the wind, sounding like the ocean to Dean sometimes. He supported his arms on his knees and sat forward, sighing deep, looking up at a truck that passed through the crossroads quickly. The gravel was dry and made a thick dust cloud after the heavy truck, and as the dust vanished the angel appeared from a silhouette, hands in pockets.  
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Dean,” his deep, husky voice started, “I had.. business to attend to.” 

The demon smiled wide and nodded, retracting his eyes to reveal bloodshot, but glinting green eyes. Castiel noticed the heaving bruising on Dean’s face and the dried blood on either side of his head.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Cas growled with frustration in his voice. He knew Dean was in trouble last time they parted but he didn’t expect to see such a broken face in front of him. “Who hurt you?”  
“Oh, nobody-” Dean lied through his teeth, still smiling, “- nobody special, anyway. You know how I am, sometimes I say something dumb and take shit for it.”  
“Taking ‘shit’ is bad enough on it’s own, Dean, you shouldn’t have to get your bones broken too.”

Dean shook his head and laughed a little. No matter how many times he tried to teach Cas about terminology, metaphors and slang, it didn’t stick. It didn’t matter to Dean though; as he said, it was part of the charm of his angel.  
“Come! Sit.” the demon said, clapping to his side on the bench, sitting back and relaxing his arms on his hips. Castiel walked to the bench slowly, brows furrowed and blue eyes glowing. When he reached the bench he turned to sit down and as he started to move down, Dean grabbed at the angel’s hip and pulled him down quickly, seating him thigh by thigh next to him, arm still holding on the trenchcoat by the hip.  
“Dean, what’re you-”  
“You kept me waiting for so long Cas, I’m just eager to see you.” 

The angel and demon locked eyes for a moment, Dean smiling and Cas still looking worried. He lifted a finger towards Dean’s forehead as to heal him, but Dean threw his head back and shook it, smile retracting a little.  
“Uhh, no, sorry Cas. Can’t have you do that. There’d be, you know… talks as to why I’m suddenly looking a-OK out of nowhere.”   
“Talks from who?”  
“Just… talks. Thanks for the thought, though.”

Cas took his finger back and leaned back in his seat, feeling the resting arm around his waist and adjusting to it. His facial expression softened a little as Dean’s smile returned. Dean pulled Cas close to him, moving a bit forward to bump his forehead onto the angel’s, closing his eyes as they met. Castiel saw what Dean did and mirrored it, smiling to himself now, relaxing his tired shoulders.  
“I thought about you, you know.” Dean mumbled, making Cas open his eyes again and look at the face in front of him. “When? I didn’t sense anything before you called for me today.”  
“I was a trip back down under,” Dean said with a quicky, bad australian accent, “and I thought of you. Things aren’t so great right now and, well… Yeah.”   
Cas nodded and nudged his head against Dean’s gently, closing his eyes again. They sat quietly for a while, forehead to forehead, listening to the wind picking more and more up. 

“Ya wanna go for a walk?” Dean asked, loosening his right shoulder a little and parting from the angel next to him, opening his eyes and squeezing Cas’ side slightly.   
“Sure, Dean.”  
The men got up from their seats and went down one of the dirt roads from the crossroad, past the golden wheat fields that seemed to go on forever. Cas had burrowed his hands in his pockets again and Dean did the same not long after in his rugged jeans, kicking up little stones as he passed them.

“So, truthfully Dean,” Cas said lowly, “what happened? A casual bar fight usually doesn’t leave you this broken.”  
Dean nodded and looked to his right over the never-ending horizon of a sea of wheat. The smell reminded him of all the summers he’d spent driving, state to state, case to case.   
“Cas, it’s… It’s not something you need to know.” he replied, digging deeper into his pockets and kicking another rock.  
“It is, Dean. I want to know. Please, tell me.”  
“You won’t like it.”  
“It does not matter. Tell me.”

Dean nodded and clenched his jaw, eyes trying to find something to focus on so he wouldn’t suddenly crack down. The humanity in him felt ashamed, the demon in him proud. He literally felt like he was getting pulled apart from the inside, one side loving Castiel and another, strangely, loving Alastair. If someone could look into his soul at that very moment he was convinced it would look like the stupid Yin/Yang sign.   
“I’m, uh…”  
His mouth dried out and he cleared his throat to try and force the words out.  
“I’m.. a torturer again. Down there. Up here. Under Alastair.”  
“Alastair?!”  
“Told you you wouldn’t like it-” Dean mumbled and looked back down to his boots. Castiel shook his slightly and furrowing those eyebrows again, trying to find Dean’s eyes but the demon wouldn’t let him.   
“He made me his bitch again. Signed a contract when I got back. Been under his… care… since.”   
“He doesn’t care for you Dean-”   
Dean grabbed at Cas’ arm and clenched it tightly, shaking his head. His demonic side was the one screaming now, saying Castiel was lying and he knew nothing. Dean was nothing without Alastair - nothing! No one cared for Dean more than Alastair, no one!   
“Don’t.. please don’t say that.” 

Cas couldn’t understand why Dean would fight against that until he remembered that it wasn’t the old Dean he was walking with. Even though the humanity had grown and changed the demon, he was still just that - a demon. He sighed and looked to across the fields, trying not to yell at Dean for letting himself fall under Alastair again, for getting back into torturing - and how in the heavens was that demon back? He saw Sam fry him, he sensed him go. 

“I was meant to lead the expedition topside, be the main head of intel. I was meant to find the tablet. I haven’t, though. Didn’t make Alastair too pleased with me.” Dean took a deep breath and sighed, looking forward now, seeing a car coming down the road and gently pushed Cas to the side, letting the car pass without any trouble.  
“So, he beat me up. As he should.”   
Castiel shook his head in disbelief that the elder Winchester still saw himself so worthless. He knew that Alastair would play on it however and it pained him deeply. 

“You don’t deserve that.”  
“I do, Cas. I didn’t do my job, didn’t do as I was told. Instead Alastair’s new little bitch found the tablet and I-”

Dean overspoke and he realized too late. Cas stopped in his trail and so did Dean who was trying his best not to look at the angel who now, actively, sought the demon’s gaze, stepping in front of him.  
“Dean, what do you mean you found the tablet?”  
“I didn’t Cas, I-”  
Castiel grabbed Dean by the jaw with a strong hand and pulled his face upwards, finally locking eyes. Dean could sense the anger growing inside Castiel and that was the last emotion he wanted to get from his angel, this was not why he had looked for him.  
“Do the demons have the tablet yet, or not? It is important, Dean.”  
“Cas, you’re hurting me-”  
“Dean.”  
“-no, we,” Dean said, dragging out the word, “don’t have it yet.”

Cas let go of his grip, turning and walked a few feet ahead, clearly frustrated with the information and huffed and puffed to himself.  
“I’m guessing that was the business you were doing before you came, huh. You heard about Chrissy.” Dean said under his breath, looking around and moving his hands to his jacket pockets. The angel nodded and seemed to walk in a circle. Dean could hear Cas’ wings flapping as he turned, sounding like they were ready for take-off.

“Please, Cas. I didn’t mean to fuck everything up with you as well,” Dean murmured under his breath, clenching his jaw tight. “I’ve been a shit demon anyway, it wasn’t me who found it, I didn’t do anything-”  
“But what good does that do if Alastair is finding the tablet’s location right now?” Cas growled.   
“I can tell you where we’re staying. If you want.” Dean whimpered almost, voice quivering. Now the inner fight became complete chaos within Dean. His humanity and his demonic essence screamt at one another - he knew that he would be betraying Alastair in the worst possible way, but he wanted out - right? Both sides gave him good points, both sides dragged him deeper into either pit. Alastair would kill him, over and over, if he found out how deep Dean’s betrayal really ran. Dean stood by his words, stubborn and proud as he was, and did his best to fight off the black eyes that wanted so bad to come out and spit vile words at the angel in front of him.  
“Why would you tell me? We meant to be mortal enemies, Dean. I should smite you right then and there-”  
“Yeah and I should’ve stabbed you a long time ago but I haven’t, Cas.”  
The air grew cold between them, glowing angel eyes locked on glinting green ones. Dean was hurting again, his fists clenching tight, digging his nails into his own skin. Cas could see the torment and loosened up a little, understanding his harshness. 

“I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t mean to-”  
“Yeah, whatever. I’m used to it.”

Dean turned around on his heel and walked back towards the crossroad, a single tear falling as he took a deep breath. Castiel followed with haste, trying to catch up but as he got closer Dean managed to speed up even more, like he didn’t want the angel to be near him anymore. Castiel didn’t want to use his wings, and still tried to keep up as good as he could. They soon reached the crossroad again and Dean stopped in the middle, looking up towards the still blue sky and listening to the waves of wheat. He cursed himself for fucking this up, the only light he still had he didn’t just blow out, he smacked the candle down and stepped on it. Castiel caught up and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, where he once had gripped him so tight to save him once.

“Dean, please. If you really want to help us, I appreciate it, but you must understand it goes against my nature to trust demons.”  
“You trust Crowley all the time.” Dean sniffed, embarrassed to be like this but his spirit was so broken now it hardly mattered.  
“I don’t trust Crowley, he’s just always there at the right- uuh, wrong moments. You should know, Dean.” Dean nodded but still not looking behind him to see the angel, focusing on the horizon instead where a storm was brewing. A moment passed where there was thick silence between them, Dean’s innards wrestling each other. ‘ _Do it!_ ’, ‘ _ **Don’t, Alastair will-**_ ’, ‘ _Get out, it’s not worth it!_ ’, ‘ _ **You’re dead!**_ ’. 

“Well, since I’m just an untrustworthy demon,” he coughed, trying to remove a knot that was forming in his throat from being full of deep despair and uncertainty, “I’ll strike you a deal, angelface.”

He let out his black eyes and turned around, letting Cas’ arm fall to his side and looked at the confused face in front of him.  
“Dean, what do you-”  
“Save me, Cas. Take me away from all of this. I want out. I’m done. I’ve only ever felt safe with you, you’ve always made me feel like less of a piece of worthless shit. You made me feel…” Dean stopped, reaching down towards Cas’ hands and grabbing them in his, moving in close, noses almost touching once more, “You made me feel loved, Cas. Like, for real loved. And that’s something I hardly ever felt in all of my life.”   
Cas swallowed hard and his eyes travelled from the demon’s mouth and to it’s eyes, not sure where he should focus but listening as hard as he could.  
“I thought Alastair would fix me. Thought that, that… asshole actually cared. But who am I kidding, right? No one really-” Dean shook his head with a sad giggle, eyes still set on Castiel’s confused face. The demon cleared its throat, catching a final big breath.  
“So, angel. Save me again. Take me back from the pit, and I’ll give you our location. I’ll call you when we have the tablet, ‘cous we will have it soon, promise you that. You can come in and kill everyone, Hell, I’ll even let you kill Alastair, even if it’ll kill me. Just take me away. I can’t take it anymore. I’m tired of being useless-”   
“Dean, I don’t know if-”  
“Just shut up and take the deal, Cas. You’ll figure something out, you always do. I trust you. Just help me, please. I beg you. I can’t take it anymore.”   
Cas nodded - he had wanted to do something for his Winchester but wasn’t sure it was smart to do - but now, the demon itself stood in front of him and pleaded to be saved. Cas couldn’t say no, not to Dean, not ever.   
“Say yes, Cas. I need a yes.” Dean said, eyes locked deep into Cas’, fingers intertwining and his lips trembling.  
“Yes, Dean. I’ll save you.”

Dean released one of his hands and let it travel to the back of Cas’ neck, gripping him firmly. He blinked slowly, a silent tear trickled down his cheek, and as the wind started picking up even more with raindrops falling he leaned in slowly, brushing his nose past Cas’ and planted a soft, gentle kiss on the pillowy lips in front of him. Castiel closed his eyes and accepted, melting in Dean’s grip and kissing back, shielding them both from a steady stream of rain with his large, strong wings. Dean let his other hand free and placed it on the back of his angel’s back, pulling him close and pushing his lips hard against him, lusting so bad for the man in front of him, wanting to pull him down and hear him moan and gasp for breath underneath him. 

The deal was made. Dean would again be saved by his guardian angel, betraying his master both as a demon and as a lover. Now, all that mattered was the angel underneath his breath.


	14. Make Me Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean betrays his master completely - body and soul.

“Oh god Cas, you’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that…” Dean gasped as he parted his lips from the angel, opening his eyes that had gone back to his clear green. He looked up a little as Cas slowly opened his eyes, looking like he was in a trance. The demon looked at how raindrops trickled down over them as if they were under a huge glass sphere. A bolt of lightning cracked over them and it made Dean smile, always impressed over what the angel really could do.  
“Showing off, Cas?” he chortled, looking across the sky that was almost black now, wind blowing like a storm and lightning dashing over them. Instead of replying, Castiel moved his hands within the leather jacket in front of him and embraced Dean by the waist, pressing his own soft lips towards Dean’s who returned the kiss immediately, grabbing at the angel’s hair.  
“We gotta go,” Cas growled deep, making Dean tilt his head slightly since it was a tone he didn’t remember ever hearing, and in an instant he found himself in a luxury suite with a huge king size bed behind him.

“Didn’t know you were such a romanti-” Dean said but didn’t have time to finish his sentence as Cas pushed him backwards, making him sit on the bed and almost falling further back. Cas was strong, stronger than Alastair even, and seeing how bossy his angel was made Dean even more lustful for the brooding, strong angel in front of him.   
After he had pushed Dean down, Cas walked over to the nearby window and pulled the curtains apart, revealing the storm raging outside. They weren’t far from the crossroads Dean could tell and looked out to see the lightning going crazy. Cas continued over to a little table near the window and slowly took off his trenchcoat, revealing the distinct black suit underneath, untying his deep blue tie. 

“Hey, don’t take off all the fun already,” Dean said with a smile on his lips, turning on his side on the bed and cocking his head slightly. Cas smiled back and left the loose tie around his neck, walking over to the bedside and sitting down calmly. Dean wasn’t used to kindness or gentle movements anymore, making it hard for him to read exactly what Castiel wanted him to do or say. The demon reached out towards the angel, grabbing at the strong arm supporting on the bed not far from him and Cas crawled in, locking lips with Dean and pushing him on his back whilst crawling over his chest. Dean closed his eyes and felt his humanity flutter within, not with pain but joy, as if it was something that had been resting in his core for eternity. The demonic side, though, screamed and kicked so hard but the overwhelming feeling of ‘good’ bottled those emotions from Dean. For a while they just stayed there, kissing gently and deep, tongues baiting at one another. Dean felt a warm hand brush through his hair with kindness and care, no pulling or tugging him down and he sighed under his breath between a kiss, feeling safe - safer than he had for a long while. 

Cas finally parted from Dean and crawled back off the bed to find a cabinet close by, where he would take out a bottle of red wine and a pair of long-stilk wine glasses. Dean sat up on his elbows, looking with curiosity, and once he realized what the angel was finding his eyebrows lifted in, almost, amazement.   
“Where’s all this coming from Cas? Are you gonna wine and dine me before you go for a homerun?”  
“Perhaps.” The angel replied quietly, not looking at Dean on the bed. He placed the wineglass’ on the little table near the window, opening the bottle and pouring the deep, red wine into them about half way. After he sat the bottle on the table, he snapped his fingers and a bunch of candles were lit around the room, making it instantly much warmer and soft. Dean sure wasn’t used to this - all he was used to was either scorching heat or blazing cold, either extreme darkness or excruciating brightness. This was… nice, he thought to himself, looking around the room and back out the window where the storm was still going strong. Castiel had moved besides Dean now, sitting down with the wineglass’ in hand and nodded at Dean to sit back up, handing him one of the drinks. They clinked glasses and Cas took a small sip, Dean just looking at the fluid. 

“I’m uh, not exactly used to wine anymore,” Dean muttered with a little smile, “the only red drink I get lately is blood.” Without thinking about it he forgot that, well, it wasn’t normal to drink blood, but Cas didn’t react to it other than just taking another sip.   
“Sorry I-”  
“Just drink, Dean,” Castiel said with a smile and got up from his seat again, taking off his suit jacket and folding it neatly, putting it on a chair nearby. Dean did as he was told and took a large gulp, forgetting how strong wine was and flinched after he swallowed, feeling his throat dry out a little, making a strange face as he tried to click his tongue against the roof of his mouth.  
“You don’t like it?” Cas asked, looking like a question mark in front of Dean. The demon shook his head no, coughing a little and taking another small sip.  
“I do, I just forget how, hmhm, dry it is.”   
Cas smiled and walked over in front of Dean, taking the glass from the demon’s hands and placing a soft hand on the side of Dean’s face. Dean melted a little, pushing gently against the hand and nuzzling his nose against the soft skin on the wrist near him.   
“Tell me what to do babe, I’ll do anything.” Dean said gently, looking up almost pleadingly to the Angel who stood so tall and broad over him. This body was not frightening however - Dean didn’t want to cover or flinch underneath it, didn’t expect hard hits or words to fall upon his face. He wanted to kiss every inch of it, feel all the muscles play underneath the warm skin that he had dreamt of so many times when he was living. He blinked slowly, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue and biting his lower lip slightly, baiting a reaction from Cas. 

The angel pulled Dean up and turned them around so, now, he sat on the bed and Dean was standing.   
“Let me see you. All of you.” Cas said, leaning back on his elbows and smiling softly towards Dean, wineglass still in hand. This game the demon had played too often with Alastair, who got a kick out of seeing Dean undress too. Dean was fine with it, however, knowing very well how attractive he was, and he wanted to see how the angel would react compared to the Prime. He walked a bit backwards and started with his belt, unbuckling it and slipping it out of his rugged jeans quickly, throwing it on the ground a bit behind him and moved to slide off his heavy jacket. Dean traced a firm smile on the angel’s lips and continued, letting the jacket fall heavy on the floor. He kicked off his shoes quick and tried with the socks as well - he always felt extremely awkward when the strip-tease included clunky boots. It didn’t feel very sexy. He tried to think past it and walked slowly towards Castiel who was laying on the bed, legs spread slightly apart, making perfect room for Dean to move in between them where he would stand tall, taking off his old red lumberjack shirt and lifting off his gray tshirt. His muscles danced with the candlelights in the room, making Cas lick his lips gently as his eyes moved all over the torso of the demon.

“You like what you see babe?” Dean said, letting his arms fall quietly to his sides and flexing his abs slightly. He wanted to impress the angel but forgot all about the fact that Cas perfectly well knew how Dean looked, seeing as he had rebuilt the Winchester so many years ago. Cas nodded though, taking a sip of the red wine and sitting back to watch the rest of the show. Dean was getting impatient however, a feeling he didn’t allow himself to have with Alastair, and took the glass from Cas, putting it on the floor and crawling over the angel, slight smile on his lips and still playing with his muscles as he moved. Castiel let himself fall on his back and let his hands travel on the muscular sides of the demon over him, reading the enochian scripts he had placed on him years ago. 

“You are so beautiful, Dean.” Cas hummed, letting his hands find destination at the broad jaw over him, cupping his demon’s head and feeling the scruff scratch at the palms of his hands.  
“I thought you’d be able to see my ugly, twisted soul now that I’m, you know, a damn demon,” Dean dismissed the compliment but actually concerned. Cas shook his head slightly, smiling. “Once, you did indeed look quite… frightening. But since your humanity has grown back in, gotten bigger, I can hardly see your dark side. And even then, your beauty is far more than that. I’ve always found you beautiful. Every part of you. Every scar, every freckle.”  
Dean felt his cheeks flush and he couldn’t face the angel, not being used to the praise.   
“Dean, look at me,” Cas asked, blue eyes searching the slightly red face over him. Dean turned his head back, not sure if he should smile or scream, and as he was about to open his mouth to speak the angel moved up and planted another gentle kiss. He pulled Dean back down on the bed and rolled over him, kissing more passionately and wildly now than he had previously. Dean obliged and let his tongue play at Cas’ lips, baiting out the angel’s which didn’t take long. Dean suckled onto Cas’ tongue and moved deep, hearing that Cas moaned under his breath, pressing Dean down hard on the bed. Dean moved his hands the the hips of his angel, grinding himself up against Cas and still sucking gently on the soft tongue, feeling on the verge of coming already after listening to the angel moaning deep over him. He lusted so bad for the angel. 

Castiel decided to break them and sat up on his knees, ripping off his shirt and revealing his own muscular torso, leaving Dean breathless for a moment, observing as Cas scooted off the bed, quickly disposing of his pants and underwear. Dean wanted to do the same but thought he’d show off some of his skills before letting Cas take him and slid off the bed as well, dropping to his knees quick and planting his face on the top of the angel’s right thigh, gently kissing it, observing the big sex next to him standing more than ready.  
“Have you dreamt of me like this, Cas?” Dean almost whispered, planting another few kisses on his angel, “On my knees, under you, under your control?”   
Cas hissed at the words and bit his lower lip, moving a hand to Dean’s hair once more, brushing it very gently.   
“You can grab me if you want,” Dean baited, looking up and smiling slyly, “I won’t fight it. Unless you want me to.” Castiel understood that this was something Dean wanted and lusted for, seeing that being submissive made Dean’s body rush and quiver, just as it did when he stripped for him. With a gentle smile, Cas ran his left hand through the soft hair, letting a thumb hit Dean’s forehead and instantly healing the demon.   
“Cas, what the he-”  
“Sshh Dean. Keep kissing me.” 

Cas’ commands made Dean shake a little and he eagerly went back to kissing the soft skin on his angel’s thighs and up towards his stomach, doing his best to circle the most sensitive areas with the tip of his tongue. Cas’ hand gripped, gently, at Dean’s hair and held him firmly, throwing his own head back in pleasure as the demon went from right thigh to the left, bottom of his chin running over Cas’ hard dick gently as he moved. Dean knew exactly what he was doing but was still adjusting to being so gentle - had it been Alastair the length would’ve been caught in Dean’s throat minutes ago.   
Dean felt the grip in his hair tightening and knew it was about time he sent the angel flying. He adjusted his seat on his knees, opening his own pants enough to let his own throbbing cock peek out and sit firmly against his stomach.   
“I have, Dean-” Cas growled, looking back down at the demon who caught his gaze quickly.  
“I have dreamt of you like this. Have you dreamt of me?”   
Dean nodded and smiled to himself, planting a kiss near the root of Cas’ tight sex, “More than I care to admit,” he said with honesty, planting another kiss. “Tried fighting it,” and another, “But every time I did,” another, “You’d look at me with those eyes,” another, “and I’d want to pull you apart.” 

Cas sighed passionately at the kisses and let his other hand join in on the demon’s head, gently grabbing a tuft of of the soft brown hair, feeling Dean tensing up even more.  
“Pull me apart, doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Cas growled under his breath, licking his lips as Dean got ever closer to the root. Dean would react on the line though and sit back a bit, looking up with a ‘really?’ look on his face. “I’ll show you how… ‘pleasant’ it is, babe.” 

Without hesitation, Dean took half the length in his warm, wet mouth and sucked gently as he moved his head back, encasing his soft lips on the head of Cas’ sex, moving back down slowly and deeper this time. Cas moaned loudly as soon as the demon took him inside and felt his grip tightening even more, knowing it must be painful but he could not loosen his grip, feeling extremely tense. Dean continued, bobbing his head slowly from tip to root, taking the full length and not struggling at all. Again, the experience was so different for him than with Alastair, much more fair and Dean enjoyed giving head to his strong, kind angel because he was not forced, he was not fighting for his breath more than he wanted. He started wondering if the angel would taste different from his master and wanted to know, working harder now. He took the length deep, looking up at Cas and getting his looks returned, opening his mouth slightly and pushing a broad tongue up against the length, moving back gently and letting Castiel see how big he really was in the demon’s mouth. Cas was getting more and more worked up and wanted to pull Dean all the way down again, wanting to feel the warmth encase him fully once more. The demon could tell and as he reached the tip again he smiled up at the angel, “Do it.” he baited, and Cas was so fully in the feeling that he didn’t think further than ‘I will’ and pulled Dean all the way back down on the length, holding him firmly. Dean closed his eyes and sucking as best he could all the way down, letting his tongue play inside, reaching down to touch himself. 

It didn’t take much more for the angel to groan deep, throwing his head back and finally shouting, “Dean-”, letting a warm stream shoot in the back of his demon’s throat, who simply kept going and took everything his angel gave him. Cas didn’t taste like poison, Dean thought, going deep a final time before letting Cas free of his grasp. The angel still had his hands planted firmly on Dean’s head, grip loosened slightly. Cas panted, trying to open his eyes but he was too surprised by the extreme sensation.  
“I’m good, I know,” Dean giggled slightly, standing up and feeling Cas’ hands fall quietly, ending at Dean’s hips. The demon tried finding Cas’ sight but he was out of reach, and Dean saw it as an opportunity to play more with the angel - he’d show him what it meant to be this Winchester’s lover. He pushed down his own jeans and underwear, moving in completely on the quivering body in front of him and suckleling at the soft neck there, hands gripping at the broad shoulders and soft, dark hair. Cas gasped and felt his own hands travel up and down the demon’s back and ass, digging his nails in every time Dean bit at the tender skin. 

Dean turned them around, pushing at Cas to fall on the bed. Cas finally opened his eyes, locking them with Dean and letting himself fall, feet still planted on the floor, and it didn’t take long for Dean to be over him again. The demon kissed his angel, deep and hard, the taste of sex still lingering between his lips and it sent Cas soaring, wanting to hear Dean scream for him.   
“Tell me what you want, Dean,” the angel moaned between kisses, “I want to make you fly, too.”  
Dean stopped for a moment, not recalling actually saying that but shook it off - of course Cas knew. 

“I, I don’t-” he mumbled, lifting himself from Cas slightly, looking at the beautiful face under him. “I don’t usually… you know.”   
Cas lifted an eyebrow and decided to look inside instead. If Dean couldn’t tell him’ he’d find out on his own. With a kiss he tuned in completely to his green eyed devil and quickly turned them on the sheets, leaving Dean on the bottom and panting. He wanted to say something, but Cas hushed him and pointed towards the headboard, Dean instantly moving upwards. He was all about this, all about getting told what to do, which is why - even in the most sick days - he got kicks from Alastair’s sessions. Cas was different in his orders though and the demon liked it, liked being asked for once.   
“Spread for me,” Cas groaned, grabbing himself and pumping slightly, back to being completely hard and ready. Dean did as he was told and put his hands above his head, being used to cold handcuffs there but found nothing other than a wooden board. Cas saw and with a snap of his fingers Dean felt something binding his wrists together, pulling him slightly up by the arms, nothing to be seen however.   
“I like it when you do your magic,” Dean giggled again, licking his lower lip and biting it gently, fighting the imaginary cuffs but only to make sure they sat tight. Cas grabbed Dean’s manhood now, pulling the skin back to reveal a throbbing, deep red head. 

“I’m good, too” Cas said, and before Dean could react his Angel took him deep, warm mouth encasing every inch of him. He buckled upwards, thrusting himself further in and got pushed down by the hip by a strong hand.   
“Oh, God!” Dean shouted, throwing his head back hard on the pillow underneath him, eyes flickering. He could hardly understand what was going on, not remembering the last time he had actually gotten sucked off by anyone - heck, must’ve been before he got back to Hell. Alastair only took, hardly ever gave and most certainly never wanted to stain his throat with Dean’s juice. Dean arched his back as the angel went deep once more, moaning as he did it and the vibrations sent Dean so deep into pleasure. 

Cas stopped, though, sitting up straight and brushing soft hands up and down Dean’s quivering legs. Dean opened his eyes slightly to look down his shaking body, seeing a silhouette of Cas’ wings from a lightning cracking outside, smiling at the edge of his mouth.   
“Are you ready to fly, Dean Winchester?” the angel said with a deep voice. The demon nodded eagerly and arched his body upwards again, impatient and on the verge already from Cas’ gentle touches.   
Castiel pushed himself under Dean, lifting his legs and ass and pulling the demon’s body close to him, erection pushing against Dean’s tight balls and the very root of his heavy sex. The pose reminded him of the one Alastair took him in the first night off the rack, thinking to himself if Castiel knew and was mirroring the experience. The angel curled down on the tied up demon, planting soft kisses on the hard stomach and chest, hands moving up and down with him and pinching at the stiff nipples on the hard pecs. Being in a dreamstate, Dean didn’t notice one hand leaving him and hearing a sudden ‘pop’ close to him. The demon opened his eyes again and observed as Cas lathered a few fingers with clear lube, pushing Dean further up and gently prying at the demon’s entrance. When a finger entered, Dean arched again and was pushed down once more, feeling another finger getting gently pushed in. Cas worked him long and slow, getting more and more excited every time Dean let out a gasp from the sensation, prying his last finger in and stretching his demon good.   
“P-please Cas,” Dean pleaded, eyes shut tight and body quivering, “T-take me, fuck me blind!” 

Cas didn’t understand completely what Dean meant but obliged and slicked himself up, pushing himself down and as he crawled in over the demon he entered, gasping hard as he felt the tight muscles close around him. Dean screamed of pleasure already, big chest moving up and down as Cas gently moved in and out, deeper with every thrust. Cas curled down once more and kissed the strong stomach in front of him, adjusting and pulling Dean closer, moving a little faster as he could hear Dean’s breath picking up. They both melted together, skin slapping now, Dean moaning loudly and without control, making Castiel lose his as well. He grabbed at his demon’s hips and pulled him in with every thrust, starting to moan and shout himself.

“C-cas!” Dean whimpered loudly, “Ca-as!”   
The feeling was overwhelming and Dean had no control over himself as he shot up on his own stomach and chest, coming steady and clear, cum spilling down over his sides as Castiel continued to fuck him raw, pulling out more and more moans. Cas observed Dean’s face which was red and sweating, eyes closed but with a giant grin. “Look at me!” Cas yelled, commanding the demon and so he did - his eyes black, however - and for some reason it made Cas even more aroused, thrusting harder and harder, blue glowing eyes locked on the black ones.  
“Cas, you’re so kinky,” The demon whimpered with a low, dirty tone, black eyes glinting in the candlelights and finally Cas reached his edge again, arching back hard and closing his eyes, moaning and gasping for air as he filled Dean up completely. The demon smirked, feeling the constraints around his wrists release and he reached up towards the angel, grasping the back of it’s neck and pulling him down to kiss him. 

“Everything I wanted,” Dean whispered, kissing Cas deep. The angel, still gasping for air, pushed a final thrust in and curling up on Dean, head on shoulder, kissing the tender neck.  
“I love you, Dean.” 

Outside the storm raged still, rain hitting hard on the windows. The angel and the demon did not care, however, and as they embraced each other under the sheets the candles died out silently, and Dean forgot for a moment that he’d ever been in Alastair’s care, forgot all the pain and wrath he’d felt for years on end now. But the Prime was looking for him again, and the young demon was no where to be found.


	15. The Green-eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Primes are meeting topside to discuss the ritual and Dean gets to meet someone he resents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, holy crap, that took forever for me to write. I'm really sorry for keeping you all waiting, but hit a complete wall with this chapter. Finally pushed through and got it out, fairly happy with it. Hope you enjoy!

A month passed and Dean still had dreams of the angel. Whenever Alastair hadn’t beaten him unconscious, Dean would retrieve the memory of Cas above him, he’d remember the gentle touches and the soft spoken words. He’d never have long in these dreams, though. When Alastair had found his pet fully healed and reeking of “something vile”, as he put it, he kept Dean close and locked up in Hell. Every time Dean had been broken, Alastair had mended him again with tender, caring words and gentle touches. For every “useless” there was a “favorite”, for every “ugly” there was a “perfect”, for every punch, a kiss. There was a plan and Dean wasn’t completely blind, but still … all the words felt true. When Alastair said he loved the young demon, Dean felt it. He loved Alastair too. But then, he hated him and Alastair hated him back so viciously. It tore completely at him, both sides inside fighting daily.   
Meanwhile, topside had actively gone in to retrieve the tablet and the prophet keeping it, forces swarming the hunter camp where he was. As far as Dean knew, neither Sam nor Castiel were at that camp and he secretly thanked Lucifer (God?) for that. The young demon wasn’t told anymore, though. He hardly had spoken a word in the month that went by, seeing as Alastair didn’t want to hear him, gagging him or smacking him across the face if even a syllable tried to make it through his teeth. It had been the first time, ever in Dean’s history in Hell, that Alastair did not want to hear him scream or plea, meaning he was extremely angry at him. The Prime didn’t know about the deal, though, and even if he could smell Cas on him, Dean didn’t care; he had that deal. He’d be saved, he’d be fine - right?

“Come, pet” Alastair hummed, removing the bloody cuffs from Dean’s sore wrists, petting the swollen face, “Today you come with me. We have wonderful news.”   
Dean looked up towards the tall, frightening man, hardly being able to see anything but red and the silhouette of the powerful demon. Dean knew that it was time. Finally the tablet had been found and that either meant his own salvation or the death of him - and his angel, probably - and the young demon kept silent.   
“I can’t have you leaving like this, though,” Alastair said calmly and brushed a gentle hand through Dean’s hair. With a swift snap of his fingers on the other hand the sound of bent and broken bones, that popped back into place, rung through the dark room. Wounds retracted and the blood soaked eyes got cleared, leaving Dean in perfect condition once again. He had groaned and whimpered when the Radius’ snapped down again, making him able to move his wrists. 

“My pretty.”   
Dean just kept his eyes down. He hadn’t gotten permission to speak yet, so he wouldn’t. He’d like to keep his teeth today. Alastair reached down towards Dean’s hands that was resting on his thighs, sitting silently on the ground. The demon complied without a sound, taking the Prime’s hand and getting helped up, feeling like he forgot how to stand and walk on his own. Alastair supported the young demon, being extremely careful and it made Dean wonder if there was some other hidden agenda. The Prime cupped the newly healed face and planted a kiss on the forehead, salt and pepper beard scratching against the skin and making Dean cringe a little, expecting a hard slap afterwards but nothing came. He was lead outside the door by his master and without a word they travelled back up to the establishment Dean used to run.

It feels like a giant mall cramped into a barn, Dean thought to himself, as they made their way through the giant hall, shoulders getting bumped in to constantly even though he was tightly pressed to Alastair’s side. The Prime was kept untouched, though, and Dean thought the rest of Hell must’ve heard about Dean’s humanity by now, heck maybe even gotten told how the young demon reeked of angel when he had gotten found. He sure wasn’t considered equal anymore, no one feared him, and as he tried to look up at his master’s smiling face someone spat him directly on the cheek, making Dean wince and throw out a low grunt of disgust. Alastair noticed both the spit and Dean’s grimace, instantly grabbing Dean by the hair and pulling his head backwards as they kept walking and with the other he did a swift motion, twisting his wrist and the demon who’d spat on the Prime’s pet got burned on the spot. 

“Ah, you made it!” Crowley yelled through the crowd, a small hand getting lifted up over all the heads, signaling the Prime and the pet closer. Dean was held back still, gritting his teeth and feeling muscles tighten in his neck, keeping quiet however.   
“Mm, yes,” Alastair hummed with a sense of anger in his voice, “It’s a madhouse now Crowley. I thought you’d try and keep everyone down until the ritual was over.”   
As he finished his sentence they reached Crowley, standing next to the office room Dean had had a while back. The door was open and it was clear that the room was full as well, sounds of laughter and quick talk boomed through and Dean tried to figure out an unfamiliar voice from there. It sounded young but gruff, but still out of place.   
“Well, for once it seems like no damn hunters have a clue what’s going on, so we’re safe.”

“For now”, Dean thought, and Alastair pulled him harder in towards himself, almost as if he could read Dean’s thoughts.   
“Regardless, we need some order in here,” Crowley said, smiling slightly. He clapped his hands, hard, three times and the demons instantaneously moved towards the outer walls of the building, almost pressing together, leaving a good space in the middle of the hall. They all stood silent now, hands resting in front of them, like soldiers awaiting orders.   
“Alright gang, me and the Prime’s are gonna have a little chitchat about this tablet business. You keep us safe if anyone decides to stop by, yeah?” 

Crowley turned on his heel and walked in the door, Alastair following slowly. As he moved through the doorway, he tossed Dean to his side so the young demon fell on the hard concrete floor outside the room, grunting as he landed and looking up at his master who’d stopped in his tracks.  
“You stay put, boy. Grownups are talking. I’ll be back for you in a moment.”  
Alastair’s voice was harsh and cold, making Dean cover a bit as if expecting a hard punch landing after, but the Prime just walked through the door and closed it after him. Suddenly the room was extremely silent, a thousand eyes locking on Dean in front of the room. He gathered himself and sat up slightly, leaning back towards the wall.

“How am I gonna tell Cas? I can’t go anywhere without people seeing me. And I can’t just call for him, they’d-” Dean stopped himself in his trail of thought. There was one way, a way he’d forgotten all about and perhaps it’d be blocked out by all the defensive sigils around the place. But Dean could pray for the angel of Thursday. And so he did.

He folded his hands and lowered his head, closing his eyes slowly and took a deep breath. A thousand eyes felt like they were burning through his skin, but Dean had to pray. Silently, he whispered to himself, his demonic side screaming with every call for holy help, leaving Dean feeling like he was being roasted alive.   
“Castiel, please. Now’s the time. Strike now. Find me, angel. Save me.”  
He repeated himself a few times before opening his eyes again, looking out over the silent crowd of demons. They almost looked like a giant, collected black blob with specs of faces, covering all the walls in the facility. The humanity in him started screaming, finally fully breaking through it’s constraints, making him shake in horror over the things that had been happening here - what he’d done in Hell, what Alastair had made him do and did to him. His eyes started to dart around the room, finding spots of blood all around the floor. He really was a monster.

Hours passed and the silence outside the office was excruciating. Somehow, the room was extremely silent, despite serious business being talked about in there. Dean was just about to get up and stretch his legs as the door opened, Alastair moving out of the room and closing the door behind him. Dean dropped instantly back on the floor when he saw it was his Master, looking quickly back down on the ground and holding his breath.   
Alastair walked over next to his apprentice, tip of his foot hitting Dean’s thigh, crossing his arms over and letting out a deep sigh.  
“Now, pet,” he grunted, “apparently some of the hunter packs we’ve been keeping away from here seem to be moving in our direction. You know anything about that, hm?”   
Dean quickly shook his head, eyes still down towards the ground, locked on a dried up patch of blood. Alastair kneeled down, head hardly an inch away from Dean’s, sighing once more.  
“You know what happens to you if you lie to me, right, boy?”  
Dean reacted quickly again, this time nodding furiously, shaking. Alastair noticed how extreme his apprentice was reacting, almost sensing the humanity beneath the skin in front of him.   
“Poor boy,” he said soothingly, brushing a cold, gentle hand over the back of Dean’s head, making him twitch but instinctively moving back towards the caress. “We’ll fix you right up soon, I promise.” 

The door opened again and Alastair stood back up, another man walking out the door but no one Dean had seen before, only being able to sense the silhouette behind Alastair. Instantly his heart started pumping, demonic essence clawing the humanity down and pulling itself back up. Was this Rick? Was this who’d ruined everything, made Dean seek that damned angel, made Dean hunger for revenge and filled him with sick jealousy?   
“Is there a problem, Master?” the man said, calmly, voice gruff and low much like Dean’s own.   
“None at all Rick. I was just making sure little Deano here hadn’t run off.” 

So it was. Dean clenched his hands tight, gritting his teeth, black eyes bleeding out over the green, Alastair picking up on the shift and looking back down towards Dean.   
“So this is your other bitch, huh” Dean growled, looking up slightly to finally catch a clear view of Rick. He was tall, taller than Dean at least, with short ash-blonde hair and a rough face. His nose was broad and clearly he’d been a boxer as human, Dean thought. His skin was very fair, though, paler than he’d imagined.   
“Excuse me?” Rick growled back, taking a step forward but getting stopped by Alastair’s glare instantly.   
“Sure as fuck isn’t as pretty as I imagined” Dean continued, starting to shuffle onto his feet, rising slowly and still looking past Alastair who stood with his sides turned to both of his apprentices. “I’m a bit disappointed Alastair, honestly. Thought this bitch was actually something to be jealous of. All I see is an ugly sack of shit, though.”  
Alastair shook his head slightly and smiled to himself, extending both arms out and grabbing hold of the men next to him, pulling them in slowly so that they would stand about a foot away from each other. Dean was visibly furious, dark eyes almost glowing, body shaking and fists crammed so tightly together he was drawing blood in his palms. Rick was calmer but clearly angry too, being more controlled however in his movements. 

“Dean, meet Rick. Rick, Dean. About time you two boys met.” Alastair hummed, almost excited about how Dean had reacted.   
“The only sack of shit here, Dean, is you. You know he left me to try and get you sorted, right? I was the first apprentice. The true apprentice. You’re just a dead-beat hunter who everyone thought was oh so important. Guess what, princess?” Rick growled, moving his broad face in closer to Dean, flashing his own black eyes now, “You ain’t. You ain’t worth the dust under your feet.”  
“You shut your whore mouth, Rick-” Dean yelled, almost leaping forward but feeling an extreme pain in his arm from Alastair holding him back.  
“Now now, boys. No reason to get so upset. Plenty of me to go around.” Alastair grinned, face moving from Rick to Dean a few times. Now the other Primes started moving out from the room, Crowley in the lead, moving a bit away from the clear confrontation.

“I see your boys finally met, Alastair,” Crowley said, folding his hands together, “doesn’t seem like they like each other too much however.”  
“It’s a shame, really,” Alastair hummed, “they’d be unstoppable if only they’d work together.” 

Dean didn’t hear anything anymore. Any words being spoken sounded like muttering, the only clear sound in his head being his blood flowing furiously. All he could think about was ripping out Rick’s eyes, tearing the soft flesh from his cheeks and bashing in his skull. This piece of shit was the reason for Dean’s fall, he was sure of it. If Alastair only had kept his focus on Dean, on breaking him proper, all this humanity shit wouldn’t have happened. And now, that humanity had doomed everyone there, calling for the angels and hunters. It was all Rick’s fault, everything.   
Dean sensed Alastair’s grip loosen slightly and instantaneously leapt forward with a guttural roar and sucker-punched Rick hard, making them both fall on the hard concrete where Dean quickly straddled the stomach of the other apprentice and raised his fist for another punch when he felt his hair getting pulled, harshly, making him stop in his motions with a scream.

“Dean.” Alastair said calmly, “What do you think you’re doing, boy?”   
“It’s all his fucking fault, Alastair, everything!”   
“You fucker, get off me-” Rick shouted back, starting to motion a punch of his own but Alastair cleared his throat and Rick stopped, calming down, clearly more obedient than Dean had ever been.   
“What are you talking about Dean?”   
“All this humanity crap, I didn’t break right ‘cause you had to tend to that stupid whore! It’s his fucking fault that the angels are coming, his fault that-” 

With a swift motion, Alastair threw Dean off of Rick and moved over him, leaning down quick and grabbing at the young demon’s shirts, pulling him up a bit, staring him coldly in the black eyes.   
“What?! The angels are coming - here?”  
The Primes seemed startled, scattering a bit to talk to their apprentices and called over some of the underlings that had been working for them, seeming like they were all ready to flee.  
“It’s all his fault Alastair, it’s-”  
“Shut up you little, useless bitch!” Alastair shouted, smacking Dean across the head so hard it rung through the hall and making everyone silent for a moment.  
“You called them here?”   
“Neh-I-I just-” Dean stuttered, weeping, hands trying to grab a hold of Alastair’s hand. When the Prime couldn’t get a clear answer, he smacked the apprentice again, dropping him to the ground and moving over to Crowley, ordering him to move the whole set-up quickly and far away. Crowley nodded and yelled for everyone to come along, clearing out the hall in mere minutes. 

The only people left were Alastair, seething with rage, Dean on the ground still weeping and Rick, silently looking up at his master.  
“Clearly this was the worst idea I’ve ever had,” Alastair hissed, looking back and forth between his two boys. “Rick, you’re obedient, diligent, strong. A hard worker. And Dean, you’re ruthless, cunning, adventurous. Also a hard worker. I cherish both of you very much, even you, Dean-”   
Alastair’s voice got low and scary, Dean looking up to meet his cold white eyes and stopped the flow of tears for a moment, “-even when you mess up as hard as you have lately.” 

“How can you say that? He completely ruined our plans Alastair, we have to push the summoning even more now-” Rick spoke quietly, getting up on his feet.  
“Oh and you’re so god damn perfect? I sure as hell ain’t hearin’ no talk about you being the prodigal son, bitch” Dean responded, getting up as well, puffing his chest.   
“Who the hell cares, Dean, it wasn’t true anyway! Alastair only took you in ‘cus he has a soft spot for you-” Rick stopped himself, instantly sinking down in himself and looking away. 

Alastair shook his head in the silence, clearly frustrated and started to walk around the apprentices, thinking hard.   
“Obviously this isn’t going to work,” he started, running a hand over his face, “I had hoped you’d both be more accepting of each other, but as I suspected, Dean especially isn’t happy about sharing.”   
Both the apprentices eyes followed Alastair as he moved around them, listening closely. Dean felt the palms of his hands ache in pain, running a thumb through one of them, feeling the deep indents he had made in himself.   
“One of you have to go.” Alastair finally stopped in his tracks, lifting a hand up in a “so, there”, motion, tilting his head slightly with no smile to be found on his face. “It’ll pain me to lose one of you, but it’s clear I cannot mend this… jealousy.”   
“But I have no problem with this Alastair, you know it! I don’t care about Dean, I don’t care that you left me for him, I don’t-” Rick shouted, now less controlled, obviously fearing for his life and Dean picked up on this immediately. “-I’m the obedient one. I do whatever you want me to Alastair, I’m a bigger asset than that piss-poor hunter ever were!”   
“Obedience isn’t everything,” Dean growled lowly, “gotta be able to think for yourself sometimes.” 

“Go ahead boys. You’ve my permission. Only one of you gets to leave with me. And be quick, because we might have a bit of a party coming soon.”   
Alastair walked back a little, crossing his arms over and resting on one hip, waiting for the fight to begin.  
“Fight for your affection, huh Alastair” Dean almost whispered, “you sick fuck.” Instead of disgust, he said it with a smile, the only humanity left in him right now was the burning jealousy, writhing in him. Alastair nodded at Dean and the young demon took it as “Go”, with a roar charging against Rick who hardly had time to get ready for the fight. 

As before, Dean punched Rick hard but neither fell this time, Rick responding quickly by moving in on Dean and throwing quick punches to the younger demon’s gut, both grunting from the pain. They split for a little, black eyes locking, Dean smiling devilishly and Rick looking upset moreso than angry.   
“I don’t wanna fight, Dean, there’s no reason we can’t-”  
“Shut up, Rick. I got fucked over because if you. I’ve no reason to let you live.”   
“Dean, come on, we’ve never-”   
“Shut up!”   
Dean threw another hard punch, making Rick’s jaw rattle, a string of blood spurting from his mouth. Rick stumbled and tried to make out a sentence, but Dean was over him instantly, grabbing Rick’s jacket and holding it tight, throwing quick punches on his face. Rick got more and more bloody and bruised, hardly fighting back and Alastair was amazed over how one-sided the fight was. 

Dean wasn’t. Dean knew he was the strongest, the toughest, the right one. Rick needed to get out of his way, out of THEIR life, and he needed to get punished for fucking up Dean’s new life as a demon, as the true apprentice. All sound got blocked out as he punched Rick down to the ground again, straddling the chest under him as before and ruthlessly punching at the swollen, bloody face in front of him. Punch by punch, Rick became unrecognizable, eyes closing and arms stopping their struggle underneath Dean.

“D-dean-” he coughed between punches, making Dean stop for a moment, “h-he always said-d y-you were worth-le-less”, spitting out blood at Dean’s face, “a-nd a bad f-f-f-uck!”  
Dean roared loudly and it felt like the metal in the empty facility shook, digging his fingers into the swollen eyes under him and pressing hard, making dark blood squirt out and over, screams coming from Rick who hardly could move. Dean dug in his nails on the soft skin at the edge of the now destroyed eyes and ripped hard, ripping out flesh and continuing to tear into the soft and bloody face until it fell silent. The body underneath was nimble and hardly moving, and Dean sat back, resting his arms at his sides.

A loud, metallic sound rung as an Angel Blade fell next to Dean, who looked up to see Alastair standing there silently. Dean quietly leaned his arm down and grabbed the blade, looking at it shining in the dim lights. Alastair planted a calm hand on Dean’s shoulder, gently rubbing a thumb into the hard muscles underneath.  
“I forgive you, Dean. You’ve earned your spot as my apprentice. You’re my precious, my perfect. Finish it, and we’ll leave together. I’ll make everything good again.”

Dean’s dark eyes was locked on the blade, which was half smothered in the blood from the ground, and felt like he was mirroring himself in it. On one hand was his demonic side, Alastair’s pet, the torturer and primal part of him, a part he felt like he’d suppressed all his life. On the other, he was Dean Winchester, the hunter, the human, saved by the angel Castiel, righteous man and obligated to save the world, doing what is right. Which was the right side? What would he do now?

He turned his eyes to Rick and let out a silent sigh, lifting the blade with one hand and quickly stabbed down, burning away the other apprentice from existence. He dropped the blade quick after, feeling the humanity fight it’s way back up again. He almost felt like Two Face, but on the inside, and this event sure as hell didn’t help finding out which side of the coin he wanted it to fall on.  
Alastair kneeled down and grabbed Dean behind his head, turning his pet’s head to him and pushed their foreheads together.   
“Let’s go pet.” 

They left the facility with Rick’s body still there, Angel Blade left next to him. Short after they had vanished, a large squad of hunters broke through the gates and was met by emptiness and the tarnished body. Castiel stood outside, still blocked by the guarding sigils, but could see the body in the distance and flinched in disgust. He sensed Dean had been near the body, but had no clue what really happened. He was left wondering if Dean really wanted to be saved, and if it had all been a trap to begin with.


	16. Pulled Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is left to his own imagination as his fate in Hell is being decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry once again for the extremely late update - uni started and I try my best to work through the chapters till I'm happy with them! Enjoy!

Dean had been tossed in the apartment he shared with Alastair and had been told to stay put. Alastair may have forgiven him for his betrayal seeing as he brutally murdered the other apprentice, much to the Prime’s liking, but the rest of the gang including the King was extremely upset and aggravated with his actions. A meeting had been set up, urgently, leaving Dean alone for quite a long time. 

He trotted over to the kitchen and looked in the fridge, seeing it stocked up on his favorite beer. He smiled to himself as he took one out, thinking Alastair probably had prepared it for him, knowing he’d have to be left there. His demonic side purred at the notion and he took a long swig from the ice cold beer, feeling incredibly thirsty. Just as last he’d been feeling extremely hot, not adjusting well to the heat down here, and decided to strip off most of his clothes and go sit in the rugged old couch for a while, watching some TV. As he flipped on the TV, a demon barged through the door quite violently, but didn’t move further in than just past the doorstep.

“Yeah?” Dean grunted, head turned to see the demon who was, clearly, annoyed by being there.  
“Meeting is gonna be real long. You’re not allowed to leave. We’re sending over guards to make sure you don’t fuck off to somewhere.”  
“Whatever.” he answered, turning his attention back to the TV. The demon growled and slammed the door shut again, yelling loudly outside the door. Dean couldn’t care less, however. He knew perfectly well he was going to roast for this and decided to just let it come this time. Alastair would find him anyway if he left, and Cas wouldn’t be able to make it in time.

Just as he thought this, he saw a man on the news show that reminded him of the angel. Dark, messy hair, broad shoulders and full lips. Dean took another sip of the beer and as he suckled on the tip of the bottle his mind threw back the memory of Cas over him, tasting the angel and pleasing him. This time, his humanity purred and he adjusted his seat on the couch to be more comfortable. He closed his eyes and kept the bottle close to his mouth as he moved his free hand to his boxers, rubbing himself outside them and thinking hard about how incredibly attractive Cas had been without clothes. Without thinking, he started gently licking at the tip of the bottle and squeezed around his arousal, brushing a heavy thumb over the head and smearing the little drip of precome out on the soft cotton fabric. He planted a kiss on the bottle, moaning lowly to himself as he imagined Castiel towering over him, full length in his mouth, sweet taste filling him completely.

He hummed to himself and brushed harder, breath getting deeper and deeper, kisses and licks still going on the tip of the bottle, feeding his oral fixation so well, helping his fantasies blossom. He looked up in his dream, trying to find the deep blue eyes but they were shut in ecstasy, he could have sworn he heard the deep moans of Cas over him as well as he brushed a hand across the toned stomach over him.  
Suddenly he felt a hand grasp his hair from behind, and it wasn’t Cas’ hands. He furrowed his brows and stopped his movements as the grasp grew tighter, pulling him roughly off of Cas’ length and his head got turned over his shoulder to look up at a tall, slender figure. Alastair. 

He opened his eyes and noticed he was still rubbing, hard, and the sight of Alastair in his little fantasy hadn’t exactly turned him off - quite the opposite. Dean decided to move from the couch to the bed, putting his beer bottle down on the table next to it and dropped his drawers, plopping onto the cold bed and spread himself across it, turning his head into Alastair’s pillow and took a deep breath. He let his hands run across his body and down back to his hard dick, grasping it again with the other hand on his balls, rubbing and clenching a little too tight, making himself whimper slightly.

He returned into his fantasy, feeling the hot length of Cas near his face as he looked up at a smiling, content Alastair.  
“Mhhm, pet, I’m so happy you reconsidered the whole… _sharing_ business.” the Prime hummed, licking his lips and the smile vanished slightly. Dean shuffled on his knees and turned a bit towards Alastair, trying to avoid getting a strain in his neck, somewhat upset that he was leaving Cas but he felt a hunger for Alastair as well.  
The Prime let go of his grip and walked in completely on Dean, groin touching the hunter’s nose, baiting for touches and kisses. Dean went to town, quickly, rubbing his head submissively against the hard bulk under the rough, dark jeans, soft tongue and kisses being planted along the clearly marked shaft. Alastair grunted deep and low, biting his lower lip and looked to his right to see the Angel standing there. Dean noticed they were looking at each other and it made him moan, turning him extremely on, wanting to please and praise them both.

Castiel grabbed himself and walked over next to Alastair, standing almost hip against hip, eyes beaming blue and locked on the white demon eyes. Dean was still busy but had an eye on them both, almost scared they would stop playing and start fighting. He lifted a hand and brushed Cas' muscular thigh, causing both the prime and angel to drop their eyes, Castiel smiling and Alastair growling.  
"I thought you wanted to share me, master" Dean hummed, planting a deep kiss at the tip of Alastair's clothed length, blowing out warm air after and causing Alastair to throw back his head in pleasure, grunting a little and placing a hand on the back of Dean's head. This time it was Cas who growled, pumping himself a little and leaned a hand down towards Dean, trying to catch his attention which wasn't hard. Dean smiled up at his angel, playfully showing him how well he could twirl his tongue against the fabric, keeping Alastair in a trance and baiting at Cas to get closer. Cas bit his lower lip and kept stroking himself slowly, clearly missing the warmth of Dean's mouth around him, whimpering a little as he saw Dean brush a broad tongue against the clearly marked head in Alastair's pants. 

Dean adjusted his seat in front of the two towering men and sat himself in front of them, right in the middle, hands trying to open Alastair's pants now and planting kisses on Cas' hips. Alastair was impatient and took his hand from Dean's hair to his own pants, quickly opening them and pushing the fabrics down, grabbing himself swiftly after, whispering under his breath some demonic words that Dean couldn't quite make out, but he thought it was something in the likes of "I want to cut you open and drink you dry".  
Dean sat back on his heels and looked up at them both, his hands finding their lengths respectively, stroking them gently and at a rhythmic, symmetrical pace. Alastair looked bloodthirsty, Cas like he was soaring and it took all of Dean's strength to keep himself from not coming all over the place already. He moved his hands to their outer hips and pushed them closer in on himself, both heads inches away from his face now, and as he moved his hands back to their manhoods he dug his nails into Alastair's skin and gently brushed his fingertips over Cas' - they wanted different things, so he would give it to them. He grabbed both the men by the root of their dicks, turning them in towards each other so the heads were almost touching. The angel and the demon were silent but breathing deep, waiting for their Dean to plan his soft lips on them.

Dean closed his eyes and moved forward slowly, sliding out his broad tongue and let it hit both the heads, sliding underneath them and causing them both to hiss with pleasure, Alastair trying to fight himself not to grab Dean hard by the hair and pulling him in. Dean enjoys himself, planting big, soft lips and kisses all over the heads, licking across them both, circling their holes and tasting them both, the combination of the acidic from Alastair and the somewhat salty from Cas. He moans contently over his breath, his kisses and licks getting more and more quick and lustful, for each suck he gives on one he does on the other, making sure they both get his full attention. He opens his eyes and looks from Castiel to Alastair, enjoying the sight of them both so enthralled by him. Alastair grits his teeth and finally grabs at Dean, causing the hunter to whimper slightly, and in response Cas puts a calm hand on the other side of Dean's hair, gently brushing through it. He's getting best of both worlds, he thinks, as he opens wide, placing the swollen, red heads over each other and takes them both in, closing his lips as much as he possibly could and closed his eyes again, letting his tongue dance across them both. 

Both Castiel and Alastair groaned deep from the sensation, Alastair thrusting himself further in Dean’s mouth, eager to feel more, Cas staying put but Dean could feel that the angel was on the brink of orgasm already. He let Alastair push in and sucked as hard as he could on the hard lengths in him, humming deep to himself as he made Alastair’s breath deeper and deeper, looking up to see Cas almost completely gone in ecstasy. He pulled Cas out, making sure to smile up at him to reassure him that he wasn’t done yet, and turned his attention to his master for a moment, encasing his mouth completely on the rock hard limb resting on his tongue. He sucked hard, deep, hollowing out his cheeks and making sure his broad tongue brushed as much of the sensitive skin as possible. Alastair approved of Dean’s choice and ran a hand through the young demon’s hair, pushing fingertips in the back of his skull, making sure Dean took it all. Dean looked up, green eyes glinting with tears from choking but did his best to not throw himself off, holding eye-contact with the beaming white eyes.

The young demon kept going for a little while, making Alastair grin and hiss occasionally, but stopped rather abruptly to return to the angel who was still hard and ready next to him. Alastair was not pleased with this and was about to grab at Dean’s hair again, but Cas grabbed Alastair’s arm by the wrist mid-air and simply shook his head, not meeting the demon’s eyes as he was busy observing the hunter underneath him. The Prime grit his teeth but stood back down, pulling his hand back swiftly.  
Dean worked Cas as he had Alastair - deep, wet, hard and playful. He didn’t deliberately choke himself on the angel’s length, however, since Cas was a different kind of lover. He was tender, trying his best to make the angel moan deep and achieved it quite easily, feeling how much Cas was tensing up in front of him. 

“Enough of this little game, boy,” Alastair growled loudly, making Dean pull back instantly from Cas and looking over his shoulder, trying to find Alastair but he was gone. He looked back up to Cas who seemed emotionless in a moment and furrowed his brows - what was going on?  
In an instant he was pulled back by his hips, knees scraping viciously on the hard concrete underneath him, falling forward on his elbows and scraping them as well. He shouted as he felt cold fingertips digging into his skin, marking him, and he started breathing heavy as he felt his legs getting split apart viciously, Alastair moving in behind him and resting his heavy dick at Dean’s entrance. 

“Be gentle, Alastair.” Castiel said, lowly, still quite emotionless while he walked back over to Dean, sitting down on his knees in front of Dean who looked back up to find the beaming blue eyes.  
“Shut up, insect” the Prime said back, rather playfully Dean thought, and without warning he felt Alastair force his way in, no warmth or care to ease themselves together - only pain and muscles screaming. Dean squinted his eyes in pain and dropped his head to the ground, clenching his fists together to try and not buckle under the extreme pain as Alastair forced himself in, all the way to the hilt. Alastair moaned deep as he entered completely, resting there for a moment before pulling back, excruciatingly slow, only to return with brute force, aggressively hitting Dean’s sweet spot, making the young demon whimper from pain and pleasure.

As Alastair worked, harshly, Dean felt a soft hand getting planting on the side of his face, making him open his tear-filled eyes slightly and look up. Castiel, the beautiful man, sat close, deep blue eyes acting as a counter to the painful motions.  
“You’re beautiful, Dean,” Cas hummed, making Dean blush under the hot tears running down his face, “You’re worth all the pain, all the fighting. Everything I lost, I lost for the perfect cause. You,” the angel said as he moved in to Dean’s face, planting a soft, calm kiss on the whimpering hunter’s lips, “Dean Winchester. You are perfect. _My everything_.” 

This was insanity, Dean thought. He was feeling excruciating pain - but equal amounts of pleasure - from Alastair’s vicious fucking. Meanwhile, the angel was praising him and being the most gentle counter he could have ever imagined. He lifted his head slightly, trying to catch another kiss, but was stopped in his leaning forward as Alastair had leaned in over his body and now grabbed around his neck, forcing Dean to drop most of his body on the ground, feeling the hot heat from Alastair’s breath on his ear.  
“Don’t listen to that junk, pet,” the demon hissed as he thrust one last time, making Dean shout a loud moan that echoed through the room. Alastair pulled himself from the young demon and through half-open eyes Dean could sense the angel swapping places with Alastair. 

He was pulled up on his knees once more, feeling powerless and tired, knees bleeding slightly. His head had dropped again, knowing he’s only look up to find the towering, powerful Alastair over him and he wasn’t ready for it. Behind him he felt Castiel gently move closer, warm hands brushing the back of his thighs and ass, a thumb sometimes hitting the sensitive entrance.  
“I’m sorry if it hurts, Dean. I’ll be gentle.” the angel hummed and Dean nodded to himself. This would be much different. He felt Cas push in, slowly, but the sensation was overwhelming seeing as Alastair had left him hungering for more. Cas found a rhythm and reached around Dean’s waist, finding the hunter’s hard length and grabbing it tenderly. The angel made sure they moved in a steady rhythm and it didn’t take Dean long to moan and whimper for more. Before he could start crying out more, his head got grabbed by cold fingers and pulled up, meeting the face of Alastair who looked furious. 

“You’re not perfect, Dean,” he hissed, as his fingers pressed harder against the broad jaw, “You’re worthless. All the pain you’ve caused to the people you love, all the frustration - all the death!” Dean tried to pull away from the grip, moaning from Cas’ tender touches, thinking back to his earlier thoughts - best of both worlds. This surely wasn’t.  
“So many people have sacrificed their lives for you, boy, and look what you’ve become. A demon - the enemy!” Alastair shouted, pulling Dean forward to him again, noses touching now. “I can make you the perfect demon, boy. I can make you the best. You can rule with me in these familiar depths, where you belong. _You can be my perfect boy_.” 

The demons locked eyes and shortly after, Cas hit the exact spot Dean had been wanting to get hit - he moaned deep, splurging over himself and the hand Cas had locked on him, tongue coming out to bait at Alastair in front of him, who responded with biting - albeit gently - at Dean’s lower lip, making Dean soar as Cas kept going. The sensation was extreme, and as he closed his eyes he felt Alastair’s lips get removed from his own. As he went to open his eyes, he felt an extreme smack across his face, making him wake up in the apartment, sitting up with a gasp.

Dean looked down on himself and could see he’d, probably multiple times, come all over himself and the bed. He panted hard, looking around the room to see that darkness had fallen over Hell, and still no Alastair in sight.

“What the hell,” Dean growled to himself, tossing his legs over the side of the bed, trying to catch his breath. He felt torn apart. Both of the men in his dreams were what he wanted. He felt like his place was with them both, not either. He loved them both, and it was apparent both of them wanted him - even if it were just in this fantasy. Once again his humanity and his demonic essence fought, leaving Dean confused with what was right as he curled under the covers of the king-size bed, taking a deep breath of Alastair’s scent on the pillow and cupping his right shoulder, where Castiel had, so many years ago, gripped him and claimed him from Hell.


	17. The Final Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time has come - the big fight everyone has been waiting for, the big decision for Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap guys I'm so real sorry I've not updated this in literally forever. I've had a real hard time finding 1. time, 2. inspiration and 3. the right feel of the last few chapters, but I'm here to tell you - this is it. It's the end of the fic! Or, well, this is the lead up to it. It's a bit on the short side, but I hope you enjoy it and I'll see you at the end of the chapter as well!

It was time.

Dean sensed hundreds, possibly thousands of demons filling up the hall where his topside adventure started, inaudible shouting and conversations booming against the walls of his office. He sat, back against a corner, the farthest away from the door as possible. He knew today his fate would be decided, and more importantly the fate of the world. He rubbed his hands across his face, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Would Cas make it? Would Sam and the hunters be able to fight all of the demons, all the primes? This time, Hell wasn’t letting the release of Lucifer happen without an army standing by, ready to guard him. Dean didn’t feel ready for it. He didn’t feel he knew which side he was on, who he’d fight for. He loved Alastair, in some sick, obsessive, possessive sort of way. On the other hand, he loved Castiel too, with desire, a feeling of safety and passion. 

Alastair had made sure Dean was left untouched, kept him safe and apparently struck a deal with Crowley - a deal Dean didn’t know much about. For a while, Alastair would return from his torture sessions looking quite beat up himself, and the young demon had thought if Alastair had said yes to be on the rack again for a while for him. Dean started shaking just thinking about it, knowing a lot of demons would literally kill each other for a chance at payback for Alastair’s torture sessions. 

The door opened quickly and through it walked the tall, pale demon, closing it gently behind him. He walked with calm steps over to Dean, sat down next to him with a grunt, sighing as he bumped his shoulder into the scared, slightly confused young demon.  
“The party is almost starting, my boy. Can you believe it?” Alastair chuckled, pulling his knees up and resting his arms on them. He looked down to Dean who was silent and emotionless, eyes pitch black.   
“It’ll be much better after this, pet, I promise you.”  
“I’m not sure about it, Al…” 

After Rick had died, Alastair had let Dean use pet names more often - Al, in particular. This was also a reason Dean had a hard time figuring out who he felt most attached to; Alastair had been working hard at making Dean feel at home, safe and useful, feeding him with heavy praises after hard, painful torture sessions to try and break his humanity. So far, no luck, and it had frustrated Alastair immensely, Dean could tell, but he was never harsh outside of the torture chamber anymore. 

“Sure about what, Dean?”  
“If it’s the right thing.” 

Dean looked down towards the cold concrete floor under him, shifting in his seat and scratching the inside of his palms with his fingers. He closed his dark eyes, biting his bottom lip until he felt Alastair move in on his cheek, planting a warm kiss at the edge of Dean’s mouth. They sat silently for a while, the young demon stopping the scratching of his palms and they breathed in unison for a few moments.   
“So long as you’re by my side, regardless of the results-” Alastair hummed, planting another kiss on his pet, “- it’s the right thing. I wouldn’t want the world to burn without you.” 

Dean turned his head and leaned in to bump their foreheads together. He brushed his freckled nose gently over Alastair’s a few times, causing the Prime to smile under the gruff beard. Dean leaned in once more to plant a gentle, wet and soft kiss on Alastair that lasted a long while. They were interrupted a few moments later by the door being opened once more, a random demon calling for Alastair to come and help with the ritual. He was met with a deep, animalistic growl from the Prime who parted his lips from Dean. They exchanged a last look, ice blue meeting glinting green, and Alastair shuffled on his feet, leaving quickly. 

“I’m not ready.” Dean muttered to himself, running his hands through his sweaty hair and sighing deep. 

A few hours later the floor started shaking, causing Dean to jump up from his seat finally and rushing out the door. In the middle of the hall, a giant red flame was rising from within a circle of demons, and Dean shook his head in disbelief. No one came? Where was Cas? Sam? The hunters, heck, the angels? Was it the right thing that was happening, should he stop it? A million thoughts and more raced through his brain until the giant doors were flung off and into the crowd-filled hall, smashing at least a dozen or more vessels and causing the circle to be broken, flame dimming down significantly. 

They were here.

Quicker than Dean could comprehend, the fight broke out. To his surprise, Cas had managed to convince a ton of angels to come fight with him and the hunters, and the sound of blades clashing, shots being fired and grace screeching filled the hall. The Primes turned back to the ritual as best they could, having their apprentices guard them with their lives, Alastair catching Dean’s eyes for a split second as to say “Hide”. 

Just as an angel fell towards him, Dean slammed the door shut and quickly moved the table that stood nearby in front of it, trying to jam the handle. The walls were starting to bend from bodies being flung into it and he feared they’d break through any moment. Vile sounds of blood and guts mixed with screams seeped in through the cracks, making the young demon move in to the center of the room and standing ready to fight, fists clenching and eyes flicking to black. “This is it,” he thought, “I have to choose. I’m not ready. I’m not ready.”

“I’m not ready!” he shouted finally, sensing the floor rumbling again. Suddenly, the all familiar sound of wings fluttering echoed in the room, and as sure as day Castiel stood in the far corner where Dean had sat, bruised and bloodied, catching his breath and looking up at the young demon with glowing blue eyes.

“Dean, it’s time to go. You’re not safe here.”  
“Cas, what the hell? What about the tablet, they’re still-”

With extreme force, the door was slammed open and the table crushed in the process, inhumane sounds bellowing in the room now, and at the doorway a blood-drenched, white eyed Alastair stood, frantic breathing and white fangs glinting underneath the dark red.

“Get away from my boy, insect!” He shouted, with hastily steps rushing towards the angel, fists clenched and muscles ready.   
“No, Al, No!” Dean yelled, rushing between them and reaching his arms between them, causing both the angel and demon to look confused and puffing up to almost twice their size.

“What are you doing Dean?! Get out of the way!” Alastair growled, stepping in closer. Dean covered a little and dropped his head, heart pounding in his chest and blood rushing through his cold body.   
“Dean, you should move. I will smite this filth so hard off the face of the earth he’ll be nothing more than a spec of dust.” Cas retorted, moving in as well and got met by Dean’s palm. 

“No! I can’t let you-” Dean choked on his words, head still low and hands touching both the men fighting over him, shaking more and more, humanity and demonic essence fighting so intensely in him you could see it moving beneath his skin. A heavy stream of blood started running from his nose and he felt his muscles quivering, every fiber of his body was fighting the decision. Which was the right call? 

The angel, the man who gripped him from Hell once and saved him, taught him what love really was, how he was worth fighting for, how life could be beautiful and how safety could feel? Or the demon, the man who once broke his already torn soul, gave him purpose, fulfilled his talents, caring for him, praising him to high heavens - or the deepest hell, rather - and feeding into every sort of need he’d ever have? 

The walls of the room started to crumble from the fighting outside, and Dean looked frantically between Alastair and Castiel, eyes flickering back and forth between deep black and glinting, wet green, blood streaming violently from his nose and fear aching in his core. 

“Dean, please,” pleaded Castiel.  
“Dean, listen!” commanded Alastair.

This was it. He had to choose.

_...so which side do you pick?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well!   
> I hope you're all OK with the rather short chapter, because the next will be longer. I hope you're eager, and frustrated, and ready to pick a side! Because that's my plan with this story.
> 
> Tomorrow evening (12th of October for me) I will post the last two chapters of the story. One for those who pick Alastair, one for those who pick Castiel. Neither is more right or wrong, this is up to you, my dear reader - who do you want to see Dean end up with? Which road do you want to take? I'm letting the choice be yours, and I look forward to seeing how you feel about it at the end. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and that you're ready for the conclusion.   
> _The chapters will be named The Demon and The Angel, so you can jump to either when they're up and you've made your choice._


	18. The Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **You've picked Alastair's ending!**   
>  _If you didn't want to go down this path, go to the chapter The Angel for the story's conclusion with Castiel._

The walls were falling down around them, causing the ceiling to drop as well and all three men covered themselves as Cas’ giant wings covered them all, unintentionally guarding Alastair. Around them the fights were still going, bodies being flung across the room and sprays of blood staining every inch of the floor. The circle and summoning had been stopped completely and in the distance Dean could see the silhouette of Sam slamming the heavy tablet to the ground, shattering it completely.

“No!” Alastair and Dean shouted in unison, white and black eyes glowing with wrath. Cas stepped back, almost fearful, not expecting Dean to agree with Alastair on this matter. Dean turned his head to Alastair quickly, panting and licking his lips, tasting his own blood and dragging a smile from the Prime in front of him. Both of them clenched their fists and locked eyes, trails of their demonic souls binding an invisible knot between them. Dean knew which side he was meant to stand on in the instant the tablet got destroyed, feeling distraught that their demonic father wouldn’t be brought back. Alastair started grinning and dried off a drop of blood resting on his chin. 

“Even if the world might not burn today, my boy,” Alastair growled, stepping in on Dean, “it doesn’t mean we can’t do some damage to the wonders of the world, don’t you agree?”  
Dean nodded and felt his demonic essence writhe under his skin, completely swallowing his humanity and pulling it into his core. He felt calm, finally finding peace within and understanding that all of this fighting within him had been for a purpose. He slowly turned his head towards the angel near him, pitch black eyes glinting playfully towards him.

“Hey Cas, don’t you wanna play with us a bit?” Dean said, voice deep and a frightening smile painted on his blood red lips. He turned around very slowly, almost like an animal locking onto his pray, Alastair close behind him. Around them all the fight was slowing down, bodies falling, demons, hunters - including Sam - and angels alike running, seeing as the tablet had been destroyed and the ritual failed. 

In the end, Castiel was left alone with Alastair and his apprentice. The Righteous Man had fallen completely and was out of reach for the angel now. A surge of fear ran down the angel’s spine and eyes watered up slightly. He’d lost Dean again, and this time, Dean neither could nor wanted to be saved.  
“Dean, please, this isn’t you-”  
“Cas, come on! Don’t use my own speech on myself, please! So unoriginal!” the young demon laughed, chest puffing up and walking up closer to Cas who seemed frozen in place.  
“Dean, n-”

“Blah, blah, Dean me this, Dean me that” Alastair hummed, appearing behind Castiel and clawing into the invisible wings behind him, preventing the angel from taking instant flight.  
“You know, I think he should have the pleasure of tormenting you, angel… Best way to end an obsession is facing it I’ve heard!” the demon chuckled, digging long, cold fingers into the flesh of Cas’ back now, large black wings flashing in and out of vision. The angel groaned and whimpered in pain, eyes locked on Dean as he was still moving slowly closer to him.

The young demon reached Cas and with a firm hand he grabbed around Cas’ jaw, pulling him a bit forward, causing Alastair to tighten his grip on the bunches of muscle he had his fingers intertwined in. Castiel spurted blood, eyes falling shut until Dean shook him.  
“Took me a while to understand my place, Cas… Can’t say you were any help. Distracting me with those pretty eyes of yours.”  
He moved in on Castiel completely, hand around his waist, causing the angel to shake and try to get away, invisible wings flapping and arms trying to push Dean off. Alastair dug his hands more into the back in front of him, fingertips touching the shoulder blades underneath the red flesh. Dean was strong, stronger than he had been in a long while, and held Cas in place with no struggle. His lips curled up in a smug smile, leaning his head to his right slightly and licked his lips slowly.

“D-ean, don’t-” Castiel panted, blood starting to stream from his nose and sweat breaking on his forehead. “-this isn’t y-you”  
“It isn’t? Really Cas?” Dean growled, clenching his grip around the broad jaw.  
“You know me better than anyone, and you say this isn’t me? All the messes I’ve made? All the problems I’ve been the root of, the pain I’ve caused everyone I loved, you included, the heavy drinking, endless sinning, botched suicide attempts.. Not to mention actually liking - no, loving torturing souls my first trip down there...” he trailed off, flicking his eyes back to green, looking very softly at the bleeding angel in his grasp.  
“I’m poison to everyone, Cas, you know that. Best put me back in the bottle with the rest of it, don’t you think?”  
“N-no-”

Castiel shook his head as much as he could in the tight grip, causing another smile to creep on Dean’s face. The young demon leaned in and planted a soft kiss on the chapped, bloody lips of Cas, pulling back and licking his lips before locking his eyes on the slightly dimmed glowing. 

“Dean, please… Don’t-”  
“Bye, Cas.”

In an instant, Castiel’s chest was punctured by The First Blade, which Dean had pulled from the back of his jacket. Green eyes switched to black, in a millisecond connecting to tearful blue eyes before they get scorched by grace leaving the vessel. Dean grits his teeth and forces the blade deep, his last trickles of humanity burning up within him as Cas dies on his blade. 

He pulls the blade out, bloody and specs of flesh catching on the sharp teeth. Alastair releases his grip at the same moment, and the lifeless body of Castiel falls between them. Dean was breathing hard, looking down at his bloody hand gripping tight around The First Blade, feeling immense power surge through him as he had killed the powerful angel. Alastair started humming, “ _... I’m in heaven…_ ”, making Dean look up and see his master stand with a smile on his face, licking delicious angel-vessel blood from his fingers. With hard stomps over the limb body, Dean almost crashed into Alastair, sucking harshly on a long, bloody digit, grabbing around the back of his master, greedily grinding against him.

The Prime smiled and let Dean suck off the fresh blood, eyes returning to icy blue and glinting with lust, placing his other bloody hand at the throat of his apprentice, squeezing slightly and grinding back against him. Dean’s eyes were closed and tongue trailing between the gaps of Alastair’s fingers, groaning deep from the back of his throat, dropping The First Blade and grabbing at the back of Alastair’s drenched shirt. 

“So eager, Dean. My perfect little demon,” Alastair hummed, forcing his thumb harder into the soft skin on Dean’s neck, smearing blood across the stubble underneath the chin.  
“I could take you right here, in all this beautiful filth.”  
“Then do it,” Dean growled as he finished a lick across the bloody thumb in front of him, opening his eyes slightly and winking gently, making Alastair suck in a deep breath and bite his lower lip.  
“Hm, Dean my boy.. You won’t have to tell me twice.”

Alastair clenched his hand tight around Dean’s throat and lifted him without an issue, turning them around and whilst keeping eye contact with his pet he moved them to a nearby concrete wall which was splattered with blood and guts. He kicked away a few bodies in his way and slammed Dean against the wet wall, lifting him high and moving in under, finally letting his grasp go slightly and letting Dean’s thighs rest on his hips. As the grip loosened, Dean coughed and tried clearing his throat, panting as he felt Alastair’s excitement under him.

“Taking your sweet time, huh Al?” the young demon grunted, adjusting his back against the wall and placing both arms nonchalantly over Alastair’s shoulders, moving in to nudge their noses together.  
“For once, yes. I’d like to cherish you for a bit, now that I have you for sure.”  
“Oh, I ain’t leavin’ anytime soon. Promise.”  
“Good. Now, I can’t do much with all of this,” Alastair said, looking down to Dean’s pants, bulge clearly showing, “in the way. Want to get that sorted?” 

Dean smiled and almost jumped off when Alastair moved back from the wall. Dean stripped off completely, quickly as well, backing up against the bloody wall and grabbed himself, smearing some still lukewarm blood on his hard member. He bit on his lower lip and flicked his eyes to black, flexing his pecs and biceps to bait Alastair even more. The Prime had only removed his belt and unbuttoned his suit-pants, lifting his blood red shirt up from being tucked in the waist. As he walked back to Dean, he sighed to himself with a large smile across his face.

“Tell me Dean, aren’t you the least bit distraught about so ruthlessly murdering your little boyfriend? I know how much he mattered to you…”  
Dean wiped off the smile on his face and clenched his jaw, bringing his left hand down to grab at Alastair’s waistband and pull him in, slick skin meeting harsh fabric.  
“Shut up and fuck me already,” he growled, pumping himself against Alastair and starting to moan up towards the demon. Alastair growled back but moved away from Dean briefly, rushing to grab The First Blade from the floor and returning to Dean, nudging the blade in an upward motion as he moved in, making Dean lift his head and slightly jumping up. As he did so, Alastair moved back in under him, pushing them up to stand as close as possible and Dean resting on his hips again. 

The young demon whimpered slightly as Alastair started to roam the blade across his chest, forcing the sharp teeth at the tip in the soft skin here and there, slowly carving into his pet. Dean had removed his hands from himself and was resting them over Alastair’s shoulders again, head leaned back to enjoy the sensation of his warm blood trailing down his torso.  
“I hope you’re ready, Dean, because I’m not going to play nice this time.” Alastair hummed, and as Dean nodded, the Prime pushed the blade slightly into the soft belly under him, puncturing enough for a steady stream of thick, dark blood to start streaming. He threw the blade to his side, Dean moaning and dick throbbing, and Alastair dug both of his hands into the abdomen of Dean for a moment, smothering his hands in the dark blood. Dean whimpered, begging under his breath for touches and a taste. Alastair groaned deep as he removed his soaked hands from the chest, one hand travelling to let Dean taste himself and the other opening his pants, pulling himself out and coating his hard dick with the warm blood.

“F-fuck,” Dean moaned, licking the warm blood off of the long digits at his mouth, and as he expected, Alastair was not gentle. With very little touching, the demon pushed himself in, letting Dean fall slightly, back scraping against the bloody concrete wall. Dean moaned deep, cock twitching and getting covered in his own blood now from the steady stream. Alastair grabbed Dean’s ass, helping the young demon roll his hips together with him. For each thrust, both demons growled deeper and deeper, heavy drops of blood falling from between them. Alastair moved a hand back to the open wound, covering a few fingers in warm blood and went to force them down Dean’s throat. As he did so, Dean came with full force, twitching on top of his master, choked and muffled moans emitting from his throat. Alastair couldn’t keep himself much longer either, and as he felt Dean slightly bite down over his fingers he came hard, screaming demonic slurs into the shoulder of his pet. 

A little while later, Alastair and Dean returned to Hell, walking down a road that Dean recognized from his first trip back to Hell. Rugged roads, bars and stores filled to the brim with demons. They walked, side by side, blood soaked and smiling, Dean holding his First Blade tightly in his right hand. All around them muttering started to break through, until finally the familiar voice of the King, Crowley, rung through the end of the street;

“The Prodigal Son Hath Returned to Hell!” Dean smiled and embraced his master by his side, clenching the blade tight in his grip and knowing he finally found his place in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here lies the ending of The Prodigal Son Hath Returned. I hope you all enjoyed this extremely long fic, I loved writing it and it for sure rekindled my passion for fic-writing. I'd love to hear what you thought about it all and thanks again for reading!


	19. The Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've picked Castiels's ending!   
> If you didn't want to go down this path, go to the chapter The Demon for the story's conclusion with Alastair.

The walls were falling down around them, causing the ceiling to drop as well and all three men covered themselves as Cas’ giant wings covered them all, unintentionally guarding Alastair. Around them the fights were still going, bodies being flung across the room and sprays of blood staining every inch of the floor. The circle and summoning had been stopped completely and in the distance Dean could see the silhouette of Sam slamming the heavy tablet to the ground, shattering it completely. 

“No!” Alastair shouted, also seeing the destruction, blood dripping from his nose and sharp teeth. Cas retracted his wings and grabbed Dean’s arm, their eyes meeting with a feeling of peace and safety. Dean relaxed for a split second, black eyes retracting completely and a small smile made it onto his lips, covered in his own blood. Cas smiled back and knew that Dean truly wished to be saved. 

“You’re going to betray me again, Dean? Are you really going to try and run one more time?” Alastair hissed, voice deep and frightening, causing Dean to step back towards Cas and clenching his fists, ready to fight his Prime once and for all.   
“You know I won’t let you leave, you little whore… You’re mine and only mine.”   
Alastair walked calmly forward, smearing his hands across his face, licking his bloody digits and growling lowly.

“You let him be, Alastair. He’s done with you. You best turn around and run before I-”  
“Before you what, insect,” Alastair interrupted whilst stepping a few more steps forward, pushing a demon who was stumbling backwards away from him without looking. He finally stopped in his movements, standing tall and cold, just as Dean remembered him from his first time back in Hell.   
“-before I end you so painfully you’d wonder where I learned my tricks.” Cas growled back.

“Aha.. I see,” Alastair hummed, eerily calm, folding his hands together and looking down at Dean’s green eyes.   
“Grasshopper, I’ll give you one last chance to reconsider. You know it’d be the wrong choice. You know you belong with me.”

Dean was shaking in his stance, trying not to lose focus because of the fights still going on around him. He felt Cas’ hand on his arm being warm and calming, humanity within him purring and the demon in him screaming in pain. He wanted safety, he wanted love and family. No more pain, no more jealousy, no more of this sick affection. 

“No, Alastair.. I don’t.” He said, voice trembling, “I’m not your little bitch. Weren’t meant to fight for the bad guys.”   
“Hm. I see. Disappointing.” The Prime sighed, clicking his tongue before looking behind Dean to Castiel.   
“Well, angel… If you’re going to take my pet from me, I’ll make sure you remember who owns him-”

With a swift movement, Alastair jumped forward and grasped Dean’s head in his hand, screaming a ferocious roar and smoke started to rise from Dean’s eye sockets. The young demon wailed in pain and tried to claw at the hand, Cas jumping forward to punch Alastair off but it was too late to help the hunter.

With a big grin on his face, Alastair wiped a trail of blood from his nose and started to walk backwards as Dean fell on his knees and Cas covering in over him.  
“I’m taking those pretty green eyes with me, Dean… Won’t let anyone else have them.” 

Dean opened his eyes, cheeks drenched in blood and tears, and as much as he wanted, he couldn’t drag the pitch black darkness from them - he would forever be black eyed, branded by Alastair for the rest of his life.  
“N-no, please, no!” he cried, almost clawing at his eyes, Cas grabbing at his hands and stopping him from tearing himself apart.  
“Dean, no - we’ll find a way, I promise, please,” the angel said frantically, pulling Dean up on his feet and embracing him, looking around them to see Alastair had vanished and the fight was slowly ending, both sides suffering massive casualties.

“We have to go,” Cas growled, flying away with Dean in his arms.

The water crashed harshly against the shore, pulling a bloody angel blade with it back into the depths. Further up on the shore sat Castiel and Dean, hands intertwined and invisible wings embracing them calmly, warming them both even though the wind was harsh and cold. Dean was resting his head on Cas’ shoulder, breathing calmly and only sniffling once in a while, tears and blood dried up on his cheeks.   
They both stared to the horizon where the sun was setting, another apocalypse prevented and life could continue for everyone. Dean allowed himself to feel relieved for a moment, trying to forget that Alastair was still alive and Hell for sure would try and get a hold of him again. He couldn’t escape those long claws so easily, but for now, he felt safe in Cas’ embrace.

“Cas?”  
“Yes Dean?” the angel replied with a smile on his face.  
“What about this whole… humanity thing. I mean.. I’m still a demon. Right?”

He looked up at Cas, mouth pouty and still drenched in blood.   
“Yes, Dean. But your humanity is strong again. It won’t take much to convert the rest of your soul now.”  
“We can do that?”  
“Yes. It will take time, it might be painful, but we’re ready for it. Me and Sam found an old scripture that told how it was possible to revert a soul that had been broken.”

Dean nodded and looked back down to the horizon, squeezing Cas’ hand and nudging in on the shoulder. The angel leaned his head down on Dean’s hair, squeezing back and sighing. 

“I’m sorry I have these..” Dean mumbled, circling his hand over his own face, “black… pits. I know how much you liked my eyes.”   
“Dean…” Castiel hummed, nudging Dean off of his shoulder and turning his head to face him, bumping their foreheads together.  
“You’re beautiful no matter what. As I told you before, you’re much more than your physical appearance to me. Your soul is marvelous, shining and bright… Even now, tainted by your demonic essence. It’s why I always could find you. Heaven, Hell, Earth… You’re like my North Star.”   
Dean flushed and brushed their noses past each other, lips barely touching and his breath haltering.   
“You need to learn how to speak like a normal person, Cas. Can’t follow all your fancy words,” he said with a smile, leaning in to plant a warm, soft kiss on his angel and saviour. 

They kissed long and deep, tongues slowly starting to play with each other, hands untangling and starting to roam across their arms and chests, Cas’ wings almost squeezing them closer. The waves on the shore crashed hard, and almost as if it was a symphony with the sea, their kisses became harder and more passionate. Finally Dean became tired of their awkward sitting, crawling onto Cas’ lap and holding his angel’s face in his bruised hands. 

“I missed you, Cas…” he growls lowly between kisses, forcing the angel to lie down on the sand and supports himself with his hands planted on either side of Cas’ head. Dean breathes slow, black eyes glinting slightly and cheeks flushed underneath the dried, dark blood.   
Castiel smiles and runs a hand against Dean’s stubble, clearing the hunter’s body of bruises and blood, running his thumb over the soft bottom lip over him.   
“I'm glad you came for me. Risked your feathery ass for me again.”  
“Always, Righteous Man.”

They both chuckle and crash together again, lips hardly breaking from each other and hips getting ground together. Cas settled his hands on Dean’s waist, clenching tight and helping the demon to grind down harder on him. Dean started to pant, eyes half closed and tongue licking at Cas’ lips. He followed Cas’ hands, grinding hard and painstakingly slow, making the angel growl.   
“I missed you too, Dean,” Cas hummed, running one of his hands up Dean’s shirt and tracing the tight muscles of his back. Dean sat back up, still slowly circling on top of his angel and pulling off his shirts, throwing them away and proudly showing off his body to Cas. 

“Still too much clothes,” Castiel whispered, and with the sound of another heavy wave crashing on the shore, they were both naked, Cas’ hands squeezing tight on Dean’s muscular thighs. Dean could feel Cas’ heavy, warm length against his backside, grinding slowly backwards again and grabbing himself, baiting for his angel to touch him. Castiel was impatient, though, bucking his hips up and making Dean fall over him, hands travelling from the hunter’s thighs to his soft entrance, gently pushing and prying a digit in, praising Dean in enochian with every movement. Dean had his face planted next to Cas’, forehead in the sand and breath turning heavy and slow from the touches.

“Hn-Cas-” Dean managed to stutter as he was pushed down by gentle hands on Cas’ rock hard length, no pain or strain was put on him - simply pleasure. He felt the tips of Cas’ wings help him move slowly up and down, making him sit up more straight and taking in as much of the angel as he possible could. They moved slowly, passionately, a mixture of enochian praises and deep moans coming from Cas whilst Dean blurted out demonic words and hicks of breath. 

A giant wave crashed on the shore as they came in unison, deep moans filling the nearby air, Cas’ wings flashing into visibility for a moment, a tint of green flashing underneath Dean’s black, deep eyes.   
Cas sat up, panting, shifting in his seat with Dean still on him, embracing the demon with hands on the back of his head, foreheads touching.

“Dean, listen” the angel panted, connecting Dean to the angel radio for only a moment, “they’re talking about you…”

“The Prodigal Son Hath Returned to Heaven”, the angels chanted, and Dean smiled as he kissed his angel once more, knowing he had found his true place in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here lies the ending of The Prodigal Son Hath Returned. I hope you all enjoyed this extremely long fic, I loved writing it and it for sure rekindled my passion for fic-writing. I'd love to hear what you thought about it all and thanks again for reading!


End file.
